


Volkiidu

by Fitzeroy_McCandless



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ashfords, Bio Organic Weapons | B.O.W.s (Resident Evil), Claire is a dork, Crying, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fallen Hero, Fanart, Friends to Lovers, Jill Valentine has PTSD, Jill Valentine is Sapphic, LGBTQ Themes, Lickers, Lots of Crying, No Smut, Pagan Themes, Playlist, Post-Resident Evil 6, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sapphic, Self-Harm, Survival, Terrorism, Villain romance, WLW Romance, i will do what i must, jackednotstacked, molded, self hatred, soundtrack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 100,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzeroy_McCandless/pseuds/Fitzeroy_McCandless
Summary: Iarna Valea is shrouded in snowy mountains, magical myths of avenging spirits and a sectarian civil war with both sides using biological weapons. Jill Valentine, rehabilitated from her capture and torture at the hands of Albert Wesker, makes her triumphant return to service as she takes command of the BSAA expeditionary force in the Valley. Jill struggles to be who everyone expects, staying emotionally distant from her friends as she feels the BSAA isn’t facing the true dangers in the world. Things go south as her base is attacked, traitors are hidden in TerraSave and Jill finds herself alone with the people of the Valley against her. She is forced to take more drastic actions to make good on her two, increasingly conflicting promises. One, to the BSAA, to keep this virulent infection from leaving the Valley at any cost. Two, to Chris, to bring Claire home safe.
Relationships: Claire Redfield/Jill Valentine
Comments: 42
Kudos: 47





	1. The Valley

_“Peace is an illusion,  
And no matter how tranquil the world seems peace doesn’t last long.  
Peace is a struggle against our very nature.  
A skin we stretch over the bone, muscle and sinew of our own innate savagery.  
The instinct of violence curls inside us like a parasite,  
waiting for a chance to feed on our rage and multiply until it bursts out of us.  
War is the only thing we really understand…”  
-Takeshi Kovacs _

“My past is less a list of accomplishments, more a series of holes torn in the lives I’ve touched.

“My parents died while I was missing, people died trying to recover me, and then there are the ones I killed. Even before that device was clamped to my chest, I’d taken life—or at least been a bystander when I could have saved it. Would the world have been better off if I had just succumbed to the infection Nemesis gave me at Saint Michaels? Or if I had been killed at the Spencer Mansion instead of so many others?

“What scares me most now is the choice. When I first started recovery, Rebecca told me that I wouldn’t be expected to rejoin the BSAA, that I should be open to—options. It was almost like they didn’t want me back. Not trusting if I was ‘me’ again, just some sleeping bioweapon. I find the people in my life trying to hide their eagerness for me to resume being the person they mourned for. Chris and Barry want to take me hiking, like we used to do in the Arklay mountains. Rebecca wants to resume our biweekly movie nights and Claire—well, we were starting to become friends. I think. At least we lent on each other when Chris wasn’t around. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be who they’re longing for.

“I feel like I’ve been cast down some dark hole, my past strung across the chasm like wire. It cuts me as I fall, crashing into the walls and bloodying my fingers against the stones. I grasp for something as each memory burns into me. They cut through my present, overturning my sense of time, my moments falling around me like rain.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore.” Jill’s melancholy voice faded with a soft click as she turned off the playback. She slid the small device she kept her audio diary on into her pocket and let out a long, labored sigh.

“I certainly don’t have a future in poetry. Cross that one out.” Jill hissed, running her hands over her face as she forced her jumbled thoughts into a rickety lattice, one she could present as “normal”. She had hoped her private thoughts might provide a pep talk before going out on stage. They didn’t.

“And with the continued proliferation of bioweapons throughout Eastern Europe, our mission has never been more critical or more widespread. At this point, I’m sure all of you have heard about the sectarian conflict in Iarna Valea. Opportunistic weapons smugglers have injected BOWs into this civil war and now their neighbors have quarantined the valley nation from the rest of Europe. Our cousins in this fight, TerraSave, are already present providing relief to the refugees of this conflict but security is now the biggest concern and the EU has asked the BSAA to come in to stabilize the region and assist with TerraSave’s efforts.

“It is with the utmost pride that I announce the commander for this mission, in her triumphant return to service, Agent Jill Valentine.” The voice of the BSAA director snapped Jill back to the present as she stood, walking around to the small stage. She was greeted by a loud applause, a couple hundred members of the BSAA North American Branch crammed into the headquarters’ forum. The director, Erwin Campbell, was clapping with them, beaming at Jill as she timidly made her way center stage. She took the podium as the director yielded, the applause starting to die off. 

Jill took a deep breath through her nose as she stared through the crowd, a smile twitching in the corner of her mouth as she found familiar faces. Barry offered her a thumbs up as their eyes locked, his wife and two daughters seated to his right. Rebecca was next to them, seeming determined to be the last person in the room clapping. Beside her was Chris, an approving smile on his face as he stared on with folded arms, Claire next to him, leaning over to say something to her brother.

“I just want to start by saying thank you. To everyone who risked their lives bringing me home, to everyone who spent countless weeks and months bringing me back on my feet. I want to give a special thanks to Rebecca Chambers, who’s bedside manner and unrelenting intellect set me right. To Barry Burton, who reminded me of my path when I was feeling lost and without purpose and to Chris Redfield and Claire—you two keep me smiling when I don’t remember how to.” Jill started, her voice echoing through the hall as hundreds of ears tuned only to her.

“I—this fight has always been personal to me. Ever since Arklay in ’98. Now I’ve seen the horrors of what we face closer than I ever thought I could, and my resolve has never been stronger.” Jill added, fighting to keep her voice full of conviction as doubt began to drip into her mind. She fought back intrusive thoughts, memories of what she had done, her heart rate starting to increase. Her sense of dread was drowned out by a thunder of applause, Jill forcing a smile as it died off.

“I’m looking forward to rejoining the fight, to pay back all that you have given me. Director.” Jill finished, feeling her hand begin to quake as she yielded the microphone back to Director Campbell. Jill did her best not to bolt off stage, her pace quick as the Director began to speak about the growing crisis in Iarna Valea. She rounded the corner and stepped into the empty corridor outside the forum.

Jill felt the muscles in her chest tense as she tried to fight the thoughts back, the flood breaking through as a hushed, gasping sob broke through. Jill covered her eyes as she yielded, letting herself cry for a moment as the memories of her torture, of Kijuju, of the people she had been forced to kill passed through her mind.

“Hey, hey.” Chris’ voice soothed quietly as Jill felt his hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see his blurry expression; worried and compassionate.

“I’m fine it’s just—well you know better than most.” Jill sniffled, standing up straight as she looked for her words.

“I do.” Chris sighed as Jill nodded, silently fighting off the last of her panic. “You did well out there, I know its hard facing these things, trust me.”

“I know I just—I don’t want this happening while I’m in command.” 

“Jill, it’s going to, but there’s no one who’s served who wouldn’t understand. Barry is flying out tonight to prepare for your arrival and Becca will be joining you a couple days after you take charge. You won’t be alone.” Chris reassured as Jill stared blankly at him.

“I’m going to go clean myself up.” She said flatly, brushing Chris’ arm off as she passed him.

Jill found her comfort in loneliness, the hum of a fan in an empty bathroom as she stared at her red eyes in the mirror. She exhaled, forcing her lungs empty before drawing in a full breath. The little measures of control brought her peace, a reminder that she was the one driving her own body again. She turned on the sink, splashing frigid water over her face, washing the half dry streaks of tears, little running makeup away. She never wore much to begin with.

She wadded up a soaked paper towel and tossed it into the trash. She pulled the door to the bathroom open, rounded the corner and stopped suddenly. Claire let out a small yip of surprise as she almost collided with Jill, the two staring at each other for a second.

“I’m sorry I—don’t worry Chris didn’t send me after you or anything I was just—you know, bathroom things.” Claire stuttered as her cheeks grew red. Jill flashed a disarming smile as she shook her head.

“Its fine. Thanks for coming by the way, I know HQ is a bit out of the way for you.” Jill returned, stifling a laugh.

“It was nothing really—well not nothing, I was just happy to come, to see you again.” Claire stammered, wincing as her words stumbled out of her mouth without the careful thought she had imagined speaking with Jill again. Rehearsed conversations yielding to nervous rambling.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, it’s with everyone. I just have a lot to sort through on my own.” Jill’s expression fell, her eyes staring through Claire as her mind seemed to wander. “I mean we—I felt like we were starting to become friends before I disappeared.” Jill shook herself back to the conversation, ending with a warm smirk as she folded her arms across her chest.

“We were always friends Jill.” Claire laughed, putting her hand on Jill’s arm. “I missed you too—” Claire trailed off. She was touching her friend in a familiar, comforting way only it felt like she had just grabbed the bicep of an MMA fighter. She wasn’t even tense, yet Claire felt her fingers unable to wrap even halfway around Jills muscle. She had heard about what they had done to Jill, the performance enhancing drugs, the genetic modifications, but she had never expected _this_.

“You ok?” Jill’s voice broke through Claire’s drifting mind, her blush deepening, caught idly feeling up Jill’s bicep.

“Yeah I—just lost in memories I guess.” Claire laughed it off, removing her hand in a sudden panic. “So, you decided to go back to your natural color?” Claire deflected, gesturing at Jills long, umber-toned hair was drawn into a loose ponytail pulled over her right shoulder.

“Yeah I—a couple shades darker actually.” Jill started, touching it gently as she glanced down at it, reminding herself it was the right color, _her color_. “I couldn’t see myself as a blonde honestly and it was, well it just reminded me of the things that caused it.” Jill trailed off. Jill let out a soft grunt as Claire suddenly threw her arms around Jill, hugging her tightly. Jill laid her arms on Claire’s shoulders, returning the embrace.

“I missed you so much.” Claire croaked, holding back tears as she felt Jill’s chest gently rise and fall against her own.

“I missed you too.” Jill returned in a hoarse whisper. Claire inhaled sharply through her nose stepping back and smiling up at Jill. “We’re going to be working the same incident, TerraSave has you flying out tomorrow with Barry’s girl, right?”

“Yeah, I think your field HQ is only a few miles from where we’ve set up a refugee camp.” Claire answered as Jill nodded.

“Hopefully things will go smoothly, maybe we’ll have time to catch up at the end of our workdays?” Jill posed timidly.

“I’d really like that.” Claire smiled, swaying her shoulders back and forth slightly, keeping a lid on the rush of excitement Jill’s suggestion gave her.

“I’ll see you around then, I should get back. Glad-handing and briefings to attend and all that.” Jill smiled as she walked off, Claire trying to remember what she had been doing as she watched Jill return to the forum.

Jill closed the door to the dim conference room as the buzz of idle conversation silenced in her presence. She glanced around the senior BSAA administrators, intelligence, special operations, aid and outreach. A woman in a sharp suit, tightly braided dark har and smart glasses wore an expression of commanded respect; a face Jill didn’t recognize. Next to her was the BSAA Director.

“Good to see you as always, Agent Valentine. Let’s get right to it.” Erwin Campbell began as Jill took a seat across from him. The lights went out as a map of Iarna Valea flashed from a projector against the wall. “Agent Burton is already in the country setting up our main base, he and the UN Peacekeeper’s emissary established a dialogue with the sitting government and the separatists. With luck we’ll have a ceasefire before you’re wheels down. Dr. Chambers will be joining your mission a few days after your arrival to assist with vaccination, mitigation and liquidation measures to contain the number of reported outbreaks.”

“What kind of weapons have we been seeing?” Jill asked as she looked over the marks of the handful of large cities in the mountainous country.

“Low grade Plagas and T-virus based weapons mostly, nothing we don’t have experience with. Now you will be overseeing the security and cleanup aspects of our response, the second phase will be hunting the smugglers on the outside of the nation-wide quarantine.” Erwin returned as Jill nodded along.

“And where are we on that front?” Jill asked as Erwin looked at the stern woman next to him.

“Our friends at DSO will actually be collaborating with us on that one, Agent Hunnigan, if would.” Erwin interjected, gesturing to the woman seated beside him.

“Thank you, Director. My operatives have been able to uncover a name, a mole inside TerraSave masking weapons shipments as aid packages. The smuggler goes by Martin Cromwell.” Hunnigan started as Jill grunted disapprovingly.

“So right off the bat we can’t trust anyone.” She spat, Hunnigan flashing her a blank look before resuming.

“I have one of my best operatives, Agent Kennedy, searching a lead on one of Cromwell’s purveyors in Eastern Europe as we speak. His objective is to obtain a positive ID on Cromwell and transmit it directly to you, Agent Valentine, so that you and your task force can apprehend him within the TerraSave mission in country.”

“No offense, Agent Hunnigan, but shouldn’t this be handled by Silver Dagger?” Jill stopped Hunnigan before turning to Director Campbell. “I mean, I’ve had mixed results trusting US government agencies and Chris Redfield is best equipped with his team to track down weapons smugglers, especially in this region.”

“I understand your concern, Agent Valentine, but Silver Dagger is being sent to Columbia the same day you’re wheels up to your station. We’ve been having trouble handling a T-Veronica outbreak and as the US has been relaxing its drug offence penalties, the cartels have been turning more and more to illegal bioweapons. They’ll be defending aid missions same as you.” The director answered as Jill scoffed.

“So I’m going to be sitting on all this equipment, expertise and manpower watching TerraSave pass out hot meals and blankets rather than go after the real threats?” 

“You are going to be an impartial military presence in a delicate region. Jill, I’m not sending you on a milk run for your first mission. This valley is a powder keg filled with biological terrors and a market ripe for any merchant who can get to it. The winters are hell, the mountains treacherous. Flight will be extremely limited when the storms come in just a few days. The few mountain roads out of the valley have been quarantined by the EU and will be soon buried by snow and ice. Aid convoys have been targeted by both factions as well as bandits and desperate locals. The BSAA needs to be a stabilizing force.”

“Ok, ok. I read in my mission brief that we have a tunnel project underway? Rail and road down from Ukraine? How will that affect my travel and containment options.” Jill posed, brushing over the thorn that was digging deeper into her side.

“Yes, large, multilane highway plus two rail lines. Drilling is still underway from both sides, about a month from breakthrough, five from completion. The winter and the continued conflict is likely to slow down progress on the Valley’s side, resources only coming in by air while the weather holds.” Erwin spoke, relieved to be moving on from the tension between Jill and the DSO’s partnership.

“With luck this won’t take that long to straighten out the region. You said Barry is already setting up our HQ?”

“Correct, just about a mile east of Bergatrollet. The capital has remained neutral ground in the conflict and TerraSave’s main camp is just a few miles to the west. You’ll be entering the country through their international terminal, after a ceasefire is established, we’ll ship in more material as needed from their other airport in the eastern province of the Valley. Mostly freight at that one, but it’s been in the hands of the separatists for months. Do you have any questions for me or Agent Hunnigan?” Erwin concluded as Jill leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.

“Nope. Head to Bergatrollet, take command and facilitate ceasefire. Sweep and destroy BOW’s, maintain order until the Valley is clean then hand over to the UN peacekeepers to unfuck the politics. Oh, and bust Cromwell’s ass as soon as DSO pegs him, unless I happen to figure it out first, not out of the question.” Jill returned with a shrug as Erwin nodded, pulling a boarding pass from his laptop bag.

“I trust the rest of your documents are already in hand, here’s your boarding pass. You leave for Iarna Valea at nine tomorrow. Straight flight to Bergatrollet.” Erwin spoke as he slid the ticket across the table to Jill.

“Sounds like a long one, I’ll bring some extra reading, have a nice cocktail.” Jill smirked, grabbing the pass, standing and exiting the conference room.


	2. Valley's Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon Kennedy begins his investigation into the weapons smugglers feeding bioweapons to the fires of sectarian conflict within the Valley.
> 
> Jill and Claire offer their goodbyes to Chris and retreat to their separate corners. Claire meets up with two TerraSave comrades and Jill is left with her reports in preparation to take command

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little flashes of Jill's view of the BSAA post RE-6 here as well as a new OC introduced! Orla Foley is related to the FBC agent Rachel Foley who perished on the Queen Zenobia in Resident Evil Revelations and Gina Foley who Claire and Moira find just before she dies in Resident Evil Revelations 2. Even though the games haven't confirmed them being related, imma just assume the are XD.
> 
> Also Claire simps Jill, but it's kinda a running theme.
> 
> "Scary People" By Georgi Kay. General mood for this whole chapter as things begin to build up.

_“Dangerous forces lie within me.  
You awaken them, and not to your advantage.   
You know how to paint pleasure, cruelty, arrogance in glowing colors.”  
-Leopold Sacher-Masoch _

A man with a carefully combed mop of dirty blonde hair stepped out of the carpeted elevator and into the Imperial Hotel Ostrava lobby. He adjusted his cuffs, simple silver links giving no indication of his family, trade or country; by design. He wore a smart black suit, dark blue tie and had a long coat with matching dark gloves to shield from frigid late fall of the eastern Czech Republic. His outfit was not the latest of styles, but new enough to imply a certain means traveled in his wallet. A bank official, minor diplomatic staffer or perhaps legal counsel for one of the many industrial companies with large interests in Ostrava. He strode quickly, with silent confidence towards one of two bars in the Imperial Hotel.

__

Leon Kennedy was, in reality, meeting an informant, a former weapons smuggler who had unwittingly been ferrying bioweapons in crates that, until recently, no one had bothered to inspect. All men had their lines, Leon guessed, even arms dealers. A CIA contact had reached out to this smuggler and offered him quite a bit of…incentive, provided that the smuggler would drop out of the CIA’s markets of interests and give them names. Ingrid Hunnigan had been aware of this contact and arranged for a certain level of intelligence sharing, the smuggler having mentioned the name Martin Cromwell. He had said he had a list of known aliases he operated under and he had footage from their last meeting. Leon’s job was to give the smuggler a line of credit to disappear with after verifying the information was viable. From there Leon would open a secure communication, direct line to BSAA Agent Valentine; something about it being critical to her current mission.

__

Leon stepped to one of the stools of the long, natural edged bar top when a drink was slid in front of him on a black napkin.

__

“Four Roses, ginger ale and a splash of cherry for the gentleman.” The bartender spoke in a warm, deeply accented voice. Leon looked at the drink suspiciously, he knew better than to raise a free draught to his lips while on a mission. What disturbed him was how _specific_ the drink was. Four Roses Bourbon mixed with a taphouse ginger beer and taste of raw cherry juice was an absolute favorite of his. An attempt to refine his palate from just drinking whatever altered his often dour mood. It was a treat, an indulgence and not by any means a common order.

__

“Um, thanks I—” Leon trailed off as he stared at the obsidian whiskey stones resting at the bottom of the glass, the crystal frosted as it began to perspire.

__

“Compliments of the Madam Červené at the end there.” The bartender interjected, gesturing casually to the end of the bar. There was no one.

__

Both men stared for a silent second, the low buzz of the post dinner crowd filling the small hotel bar.

__

“Pardon, I promise the gentleman there was a lady sat there only moments before. The gentleman’s drink was paid for on her tab. Would the gentlemen prefer his own order?” The overly formal tone of the bar tender was beginning to exhaust Leon.

__

“No that’s fine, I’ll keep it. Thank you.” Leon returned, staring at the amber liquid, softly bubbling with swirls of red floating through it. Leon tapped the screen of his watch, the display glowing to life; the window for the meeting had opened. The informant had fifteen minutes to show before Leon would withdraw and attempt to contact them. He twirled the stirring straws around the glass as the napkin slowly soaked through with condensation. With the window closing, Leon straightened up, his hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing on end.

__

“Not to your liking?” A low, velvet timbre purred behind him as something within Leon’s chest relaxed despite his shoulders locking into their fighting posture.

__

“Actually, it’s right on the money, but you knew that didn’t you?” Leon tossed back, not turning around as a flash of red and black entered his peripheral vision. Ada Wong sat down on the stool next to him, her back lent against the bar. Her eyes patted him down as he dared a glance over at her. Ada was wearing a deep crimson dress, as was her enduring style it seemed. It was a tight weave of fabric, sensible for the cold of Ostrava yet still fashionable. Her arms were covered by midnight opera gloves and a black satin shawl hung from her elbows as she rested them on the dark oak bar top. She crossed one leg over the other, opaque black tights running into heels that matched the brilliant red of her dress.

__

Ada didn’t answer immediately, leaning a little closer and reaching out with her left hand as Leon looked at her. The soft fabric of her gloved hand danced over his throat, running up the side of his cheek as she inspected him.

__

“You’re using a straight razor now, aftershave. Very pretty.” Ada remarked with a smirk, gripping Leon’s chin as she turned him to the side. Leon followed, but the subtle strength of Ada’s fingers reminded him she could likely snap his neck without a second thought.

__

“I figured if I’m gonna play at the secret agent game, I should learn to look the part.” Leon played back, eliciting a soft, scoffing laugh from Ada. She flashed a coy smile, enough to convince Leon that submitting to the impromptu inspection had been worth it.

__

“So, Mr. Kennedy, business or pleasure here in Ostrava?”

__

“Business, I’m sure you know—”

__

“With Mr. Durov?” Ada interrupted, casually naming Leon’s contact like an old friend. Leon’s expression soured as Ada glanced back at him. “Yes, Durov and I go way back actually. Weapons smugglers with a twinge of a conscience are easily to manipulate and—motivate.” Ada mused as Leon listened intently.

__

“I assume he will be late to our meeting then.” Leon scowled at his untouched drink as Ada chortled a laugh.

__

“He’s no longer a player. He was actually still debating whether to cash in on your payday or the one Christopher—” Ada playfully covered her mouth, feigning saying something she didn’t intend to. “I mean, Martin Cromwell had offered him. One big pay out is what he wanted. Now he gets nothing.” Ada finished with a meaningless flourish off towards the lobby.

__

“So what exactly—”

__

“He’s no longer a player, Leon.” Ada’s tone froze over as she stared him directly in the eye. Leon suddenly realized he didn’t want specifics. He tried to hide his swallow of apprehension as Ada’s eyes burned into him.

__

“I assume you know what he was going to tell me.” Leon croaked, his throat dry as he spoke.

__

“I have the whole package.”

__

“And you want something from me?”

__

“I want so many things from you.” Ada cooed, running the back of her finger over Leon’s tie as she leaned in closer. “I would enjoy your company on a short errand of mine. The industrial district. It involves a new weapon Cromwell was trying to get Durov to smuggle into Iarna Valea for him. You get me to it; I’ll show you the little bit of gossip I got my hands on.” Ada bargained as Leon groaned.

__

“I’m not helping you get your hands on another weapon to sell to a different terrorist.” Leon snarled back as Ada cocked her head.

__

“I saw Tall Oaks, I saw what happened in China. Leon, I’m not doing that anymore. I’m serious.” Ada spoke sternly, her stare cold again. She shut her eyes and sighed, placing her hand on his arm before opening them again. Her expression was warm, almost melancholy. It reminded Leon of how she had looked at him when she was hanging off the catwalk over the chasm of the Nest, clinging to his hand. She was, well herself. She wasn’t playing the game, at least for this moment. “Do you trust me?”

__

Leon held her gaze for a moment and turned back to his untouched drink. He gripped the condensation-slick glass and raised it to his lips. He drank deep, letting the smokey-sweet mix warm his chest before setting it down. Ada smiled, understanding the gesture better than anything Leon could have put into words.

__

“So, what if I say no?” Leon questioned as Ada shook her head smiling, sliding her fingers into the edge of her dress near her neck. She withdrew a black plastic card and set it on the bar next to Leon’s drink.

__

“Enjoy your drink, Mr. Kennedy. Come see me when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.” Ada finished as she stood, letting her hand brush his shoulder as she passed. She drew her fingers along his back, letting her hand linger on him as long as she could before stepping off towards the elevators. Leon watched her go, Ada turning to meet his gaze one more time as the elevator door closed in front of her.

__

“Never changes.” Leon smiled to himself, lifting his drink again, savoring the cocktail. It really was his favorite.

__

__

Jill adjusted the strap of her carryon, wheeling a black suitcase along the smooth, reflective floor of the Dulles International terminal. A pair of black and green BSAA boarding tags were fastened to both items of luggage as Jill made her way over to the tunnels. She drank in a warm ray of morning sun glowing in through the massive, curved windows that made up the bowed structure of the terminal. She was nervous, an edge to her nerves as she made her way through the steady throng of DC commuters. She felt out of place in a black leather jacket, dark cargo pants and a pair of combat boots she never actually wore in the field; these were just her style. The suits payed Jill and her anxiousness no mind as they passed by her, the buzz of the morning swirling in the air with the smell of McDonald’s breakfasts and Dunkin’ coffee. The season was finally changing, a nip of late October air that the climate controls inside the airport hadn’t quite caught up to. Jill was grateful for the sunlight to banish the lingering morning chill as she noticed a pair of figures amongst the sea of Capitol formal wear.

__

Chris flashed Jill a smile as their eyes met, just out of earshot as Claire craned her neck before seeing Jill shuffling through the crowd towards them. Jill returned it as she approached them, catching a break in the foot traffic and quickly walking up to them.

__

“Surprised you got out of bed in time for this.” Jill teased Chris as Claire giggled.

__

“He can be persuaded for me.” Claire returned, punching her brother on the shoulder. Chris didn’t flinch as he cast a playfully chastising glance at his sister.

__

“Of course, I’ll need to remember to use your skills in manipulation more often.” Jill added. “When’s your flight?”

__

“She actually has the same one as you. Gonna be mostly TerraSave with you it seems.” Chris answered as Claire nodded.

__

“I’m supposed to be finding Moira. Her and Orla and I are supposed to be sharing a row. I would have offered to save you a seat had I known, not that you can’t sit near us I, you could—” Claire started, glancing around the terminal before meeting Jill’s gaze again. Every damn time it seemed; she’d be speaking like a normal person and then she’d just lose her words and poise.

__

“We’ll just cram into a row, you can sit on my lap while the flight attendant isn’t looking.” Jill laughed, Chris shaking his head, snorting his own amusement through his nose. Claire’s face grew red as she idly ran her hands over her ponytail pulled over her shoulder.

__

“I mean I’d—I’d better go find Moira before she gets lost.” Claire stammered, turning to flee. She paused mid stride, turned around and threw her arms around Chris. “See yah in a few months, stay safe.” She whispered as Chris returned the hug.

__

“You too kiddo.” Chris returned as Claire glanced at Jill, grinned and headed off towards the tunnels.

__

“So, you’re heading somewhere tropical, right?” Jill asked after a moment, watching Claire walk off, trailing her suitcase. A young woman with short black hair ran up to her, the two smiling, exchanging a few brief words and glance back at them before heading down together. “Barry’s daughter, Moira.” Jill thought to herself.

__

“Yup, Columbia incident with T-Veronica. Situation’s still rough around the edges and local security forces just aren’t enough. TerraSave is doing good work but the cartels are hell for them, Warlords taking half the supplies they send out to the more rural towns.” Chris grunted, folding his arms over his chest as he looked at Jill. She scoffed, shaking her head, still looking after Claire, her well-worn red jacket slowly fading into the other colors of the crowd.

__

“Some serious shit having you play caravan guard rather than deploy dagger after Cromwell. I told Campbell to his face, in front of that DSO bitch too.” Jill hissed as Chris looked taken aback.

__

“Hunnigan’s a good woman, she’s been on our side when it really mattered, during the mess with Simmons and the Family.” Chris countered as Jill shrugged.

__

“You think the BSAA would be smarter about its partnerships after that spectacular fuck up. We’re going soft Chris and it bothers me.” Jill shook her head. “I mean they have you, one of our best on a damn milk run while I oversee TerraSave handing out blankets and hot MRE’s. DSO is chasing down the arms dealer and we haven’t even talked about who are making the damn things, the real threat.”

__

“I think stabilizing regions and bringing safety to these victims does a lot more good. We destroy the marketplace for these terrors so the BOW’s can’t even be sold. Isn’t that the ultimate goal? Eliminated the demand for these weapons so they aren’t even made?” Chris supposed as Jill pursed her lips, tightening her grip on biceps, arms still folded over her chest.

__

“Yeah, that only works if they’re greedy fuckers. Accounts null for the damn maniacs that think they’ve designed the ideal human form. I think I know a thing or two about those.” Jill shot a venomous glance Chris’ way. “Fuck Chris, I’ve been having this conversation every other damn day it seems. You, Becca, Barry, Campbell, no one gets it. SOA acts all understanding and shit for my situation but the second I start telling them that there are real, eugenic, apocalyptic threats out there and that I’ve seen them, they all go deaf.” Jill took a long breath, withering and betraying a soft crack in her voice. “I mean, they’re all fucking blind! I’ve seen it, I’m _telling_ them but—it’s like no one trusts me anymore.” Jill’s eyes were going blurry, confessing a deeper dread she had been feeling lately. She had only ever talk like this with Chris. No one else ever really understood what she meant except for him; most of the time.

__

Chris reached out for Jill rather than answering, realizing how upset she had become. Jill roughly shoved him back, turning and glaring at him as Chris looked startled.

__

“I don’t need to be coddled, Redfield!” Jill spat, arms at her sides, fists clenched in anger. “I just need my damn department to listen to me! Take me seriously, trust me. The world is as dangerous as ever and you know that! I know you know because of Nivans.” Jill went right for the heart, knowing just how much that memory clawed at Chris and how he still viewed the BSAA because of it. Chris stared at her, blank and solemn as she fumed. “I’ve seen these terrors firsthand Chris, and if people don’t fucking get it, they’re going to have to be made to get it.”

__

“You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Lansdale.” Chris murmured after a tense minute. A muted anger laced his tone, his better judgement, his sympathy for Jill keeping it down save for the single barb.

__

Jill went from angry to livid, stepping up on Chris and pointing her finger against his chest.

__

“Don’t you _ever_ compare me to that bastard again.” Jill growled, grabbing her suitcase as she turned and stormed off. She bolted, moving quickly to the tunnels, heading towards her gate as she heard Chris behind her.

__

“Jill! Jill wait! I’m sorry.” Chris called out, trying not to cause a scene as he struggled to follow her. Jill paused, taking a deep breath, shoulders rocking before she turned to look at him. The glance stopped Chris in his tracks. Jill’s eyes bore into him, rage masking a deep, gnawing pain she hid under the stoic mask of her face, all this betrayed by a single, sparkling line of tears running from her eyes down to the flat line of her mouth.

__

Chris approached her slowly, placing both hands on Jill’s shoulders. Jill avoided his eyes, coughed up a single sob before biting back the rest of it, wiping tears from her eyes.

__

“I need you to know, I trust you, _I_ do.” Chris implored as Jill nodded, still avoiding his eyes.

__

“Do you?” Jill croaked, meeting his gaze as a few additional tears leaked from her eyes and over her cheeks.

__

“I do. I trust you to make sound and just decisions in command, to lead and—” Chris sighed, glancing over Jill’s shoulder. “I trust you with something much more important too.” Chris added as Jill looked over her shoulder in the direction he was staring.

__

Claire and Moira had met up with another TerraSave member. Orla Foley, Jill remembered; remembered the eager and aggrieved little girl from the funeral service for those lost during the incident that led to the end of the FBC, Orla’s big sister one of—too many casualties. The three were talking, centered around Claire, as they waited to board.

__

“Bring her home safe for me.” Chris added as Jill looked back into her partner’s eyes.

__

“I promise you; I’ll make sure she gets home safe.” Jill forced a smile, placing her hand on the side of Chris’ head. They leant their heads against each other, a silent gesture of closeness that only came through the crucible of shared traumas and experiences. Grief burned into their minds in deep trenches, the fathoms only understandable amongst themselves, and a select few others. 

__

“Becca and Barry will be with you if you need them. You come home safe too.” Chris added as he stepped back.

__

“Got it big guy. See you in a few months.” Jill flashed a smile as she turned and headed off towards the gate.

__

__

“So, did you pick up that the capitol translates to ‘Mountain Troll’. I think that one came from Scandinavian immigrants to the region. That mixed with Latvian and Estonian covens fleeing Church inquisitions, blended with Slavs and Whallaz, Romani and Sufi Chechens creates one of the only places in Europe where old traditions and faiths rule rather than any of the big world religions!” Moira had started talking before they had found her seat. Orla scooted to the window seat, Moira settling down in the middle and Claire on the aisle.

__

“You know we’re not going on vacation, right?” Claire raised her eyebrow as Moira held up another article on the history of pagan faiths in Iarna Valea, gothic font glowing over her phone’s screen.

__

“I know that, I do. Right Orla? Was I not just talking about how a unique faith structure means we’ll be reaching out to a lot of different religious organizations to coordinate relief responses and make use of existing structures for shelters?” Moira countered, turning to Orla for support.

__

“And chaplain and last rights services.” Orla added mournfully. Orla was usually quiet, rather thoughtful. She wore her mousey blonde hair up in a messy bun, a simple black pin through the center at a canted angle. From a short chain hung her sister’s dog tags. She always kept them close. Gina’s body had never been recovered, so this small piece of steel with Rachel’s name on it was the sum-total of what was left of her sisters. Claire had found it admirable, the quiet sister, the average grades baby sibling left behind by her FBC special operative and TerraSave aid captain older sisters. The fight against bioweapons had claimed both of their lives, yet here she was, fearlessly keeping up the struggle.

__

Orla caught Claire’s eye, a smile twitching up from the corner of her mouth. Claire realized she was staring, an expression over her face like she had just watched a young child drop their ice cream. Claire shook the look from her face.

__

“Sorry that was a bit dower. Just trying to stay grounded in our purpose boss.” Orla offered, her tone a bit more chipper, flashing a glint of a smile as Moira looked between them.

__

That hooked deeper into Claire’s heart, the little term of endearment, of _trust_.

__

“I have to get this girl back home to her family.” Claire thought to herself, picturing the distraught Foley’s watching their last daughter board a flight into the same greedy conflict that consumed their other children. It made Claire feel nauseous. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Chris felt about the men under his command. What about Jill?

__

“Ha, I still think it’s a bit presumptive to call me that.” Claire brushed off nervously, idly glancing around the cabin, her wandering mind now fixated on catching a glimpse of Jill.

__

“Oh, for fucks sake, that shit-head Woodhull is only ahead of you because he was boot licking the mission lead for weeks. You’re the most experienced aid captain in the whole damn organization and the only reason you aren’t getting Fisher’s old office is cause you don’t suffer the political side of things and that hurts the feelings of the donors.” Moira proclaimed as Claire’s eyes found Jill. She was several rows up and on the other side of the aisle. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders and her laptop was open on the tray in front of her.

__

“Have to agree with Moira on that one.” Orla chimed in. “I think you’re far better in a crisis and should things hit the fan; the mission leader is probably just gonna do whatever you say.” Orla smiled as Moira looked back at Claire.

__

“Hell, if the bastards start listening to you from the get-go, then we might get some down time, get to look around the place a bit.” Moira smirked.

__

“We’re here for work, to give aid to a war-ravaged country.” Claire implored, shaking her head as Moira groaned.

__

“We know, mom. I can still hope right?” Moira chided.

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“They do have some old ruins from a Transylvanian noble who tried to set up a vasal state in the valley in the middle ages. They seem really cool and are supposedly haunted.” Orla spoke shyly as Claire squinted at her.

__

“Don’t enable Moira, Orla. She’s already out of—”

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“The whole damn valley is haunted! That’s the best part!” Moira exploded with glee as Claire sighed and placed her hand over her face. “I mean have you heard the big myth of the Valley? They have a vengeful wolf spirit who wanders the woods, is responsible for the endless winters and the lack of wildlife.”

__

“Oh! I heard this one!” Orla perked up as Claire glanced up at the pair. “They call it Volkiidu, right? Supposed to be the reluctant guardian of the Valley.”

__

“Yes!”

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“You two are way too excited to be heading into a warzone.” Claire groused, her tone telling that she knew talking these two down was a lost cause.

__

“Look, I get it, but Claire,” Moira started, attempting to repair her image, “I get to celebrate Samhain in a country where people actually know what that is. We’re going to be set up really close to Bergatrollet. The capitol is a neutral zone though right? So we’ll get to do at least a little looking around.”

__

“Supposedly, I heard your dad has been negotiating with both sides, BSAA trying to set up demilitarized zones. Neither army is that big, but the urban fighting has been brutal and the capitol has been paying the price.” Claire answered as Moira nodded. Moira suddenly grimaced and flopped back in her seat.

__

“Damn, they’re gonna have me go through decon when we get there, aren’t they?” Moira pouted. Ever since the Terragrigia Panic, international travel had changed. Along with their passport, visas and other documentation, a traveler had to present a contamination chart. It listed what biological weapons, if any, that the individual had been exposed to, when and what vaccinations or treatments they had received. From there, most countries had varying degrees of sterilization procedures to make sure no elements of disease and bioweapons made it past customs.

__

“Yeah, probably. T-phobos was nasty.” Claire shrugged as Moira let out another groan. “Oh stop, I’m probably gonna have to do the whole shower and shit cause of my long ass list of bio-engineered hell-exposures.” Claire shot back. Her mind drifted back to Jill, sitting alone near the front of the plane. “God, I hope they don’t put you through anything—well traumatic.” Claire thought to herself as she watched Jill brush a strand of her long hair behind her ear. Claire could have sworn she caught a glint of the light blonde Jill’s deep brown dye was hiding.

__

“Hey Redfield, still with me?” Moira’s hand flashed in front of Claire’s eyes. Claire startled, jumping a bit in her seat as she looked back at Moira, Orla leaning forward in her seat, a faint expression of concern flashed over her sharp blue eyes.

__

“Yeah I uh—just a bit spacey thinking about shit.” Claire brushed off. She let out a soft “oof” as Moira leaned onto her lap, pressing her elbow into Claire’s thigh as she looked up the aisle. Moira pulled back and crossed her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow and desperately trying to suppress her self-satisfied smirk. “What?” Claire asked, feeling a growing heat in her cheeks.

__

“Oh, this might make me a bad person for saying this, but I hope something goes bad when we get to camp.” Moira spoke softly, leaning a bit closer to Claire as Orla leaned awkwardly over, curious as to where Moira was going. “She might have to come save you.” Moira laughed as Claire shoved her back into her seat. Moira threw her head back and laughed as Claire’s face went deep red, folding her arms over her chest as she stared at the folded-up tray table in front of her.

__

“I’m sorry I think I’m missing something.” Orla stepped in as Moira was close to tears with her laughing.

__

“Oh, ok, so Claire here has the hots for her brother’s partner.” Moira giggled, looking over at Orla and back to Claire.

__

“I do not!”

__

“Oh, Claire, honey, yes you do. Oh my god you do.” Moira cooed, placing her hand on Claire’s shoulder only to get a pouty brush off. Orla gently covered her mouth to suppress a laugh.

__

“Well, for your sake Claire, I hope things go just enough wrong so that Ms. Valentine has to come take you to safety.” Orla joined in as Claire cast her a venomous glance, her eyes narrowing as she tried to convert her embarrassment into anger.

__

“We aren’t judging you Claire.” Moira reassured, putting her hand back on Claire’s arm. “Trust me, she’s not really my type but—I mean damn, I watched her box my dad once and—just wiped the floor with him. This was _before_ they let her out of rehab, just to get her back on training!” Moira emphasized as Claire felt a small flutter in her gut. The thought of Jill beating a two-hundred-pound veteran special operative around while she was still nowhere near one hundred percent made her chest tighten, butterflies quiver in ways that—altitude. That was it. That and whatever cheap breakfast burrito she had time for at the airport.

__

“You guys are the worst.” Claire grumbled as Moira and Orla continued to giggle. Claire stared off up the aisle, tuning them out as she watched the steward approach Jill. Jill handed them an empty plastic cup with half melted ice, the steward trading her for a miniature bottle of whiskey, can of diet coke and a fresh cup of ice. Jill silently mixed the drink and stared at her laptop. The screen hadn’t changed since the last time Claire had stolen a glance.

__

“Oh Jill…” Claire’s mind wandered as she grasped at what might be going through her head. She felt guilty for sitting with her friends while Jill was left alone to fend off intrusive thoughts, bad memories of redeployment anxiety and a tedium of reports that came with command. Moira and Orla were debating which catastrophe would produce the greatest need for Jill to rescue Claire in some dramatic gesture. Claire ignored it. The only thing she could think about was how badly she wanted to get up and give Jill a hug; and how badly that woman seemed to need it.

__


	3. Dead Quarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill and Claire's flight lands in Iarna Valea, the two forced to go through a biohazard containment measure that reminds them of how many terrors they've seen.
> 
> Leon demands answers from Ada, who in a rare moment of transparency lets Leon in on her plan. Barry arrives to drive Jill to base as they discuss the situation the BSAA is facing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has an infamous locker room scene I've been looking forward to for a long time. No promises but I may even commission some art for it. Even more TerraSave OC's too! We have a Lansdale to go with our Foley, fan of Revelations here XD.
> 
> "Playmate" By Olive B. This is the song I wrote the Locker Room scene too.

_“They say hope begins in the dark.  
That faith is the bird that feels light when the sky is dim.  
But with every tomorrow we carry our past.  
It echoes beneath our feet.  
There are no clean slates.”  
-Annabel _

Claire led the trio of TerraSave members off the plane into the arrivals terminal at Bergatrollet International, craning her neck over the crowd, idly looking for familiar faces. Moira cried out in surprise, suddenly as Claire turned, a woman with dark, braided hair and a green TerraSave jacket had thrown her arms around Moira as Orla laughed.

“Christ, Lancaster! You’re gonna cause a scene that’ll get me randomly selected for additional screening.” Moira laughed, returning the hug.

“Oh please, it’s been like a year since I got to see you. I’m so happy our planes disembarked so soon together; I didn’t know how busy things are gonna get at base camp.” Megan Lancaster tossed back, pulling back, her hands still resting on Moira’s shoulders. She had been the first friend Moira made in TerraSave, besides Claire. She wasn’t entirely sure, but Claire had heard that Megan had a particularly nasty run in with T-virus infected when she was eleven. There was a conspicuous scar over her neck that Claire had inferred was a part of the story. Moira had her own childhood traumas she had been working through, she shared what she could with Megan and the two had grown close. Megan had a head for logistics that Claire still didn’t understand; she just let Ms. Lancaster handle all of team’s supplies and they never wanted for anything.

“I think with the ceasefire holding we’ll have a little time to catch up and acclimate, right Red?” Another woman spoke up, joining the group and looking at Claire. She hated that nickname.

The new arrival was tall and lean, her platinum blonde hair drawn up into a tight bun. She wore a grey button up shirt with a TerraSave patch sewn into the shoulder. This was tucked into a pair of grey cargo pants and brown combat boots. Her face was angular, sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. 

“The bitch thinks she’s a soldier.” Claire thought to herself, fighting to keep her thoughts from coloring her expression. Her name carried a nasty weight with it, Miranda Lansdale. She was the niece of Morgan Lansdale, the disgraced and incarcerated former head of the Federal Bioterrorism Commission. She had joined TerraSave shortly after her uncle’s trial, telling the press that she intended to show the country that not all the Lansdales were wicked, power hungry bastards. Certainly, didn’t make her likeable though. Self-righteous, dismissive, arrogant; she always had something to prove.

“Here’s hoping. Were the Jeffreys with you two?” Orla spoke up, interrupting the string of passive-aggressive rebukes Claire had been thinking up to sling at Miranda.

“Nah, different flight. They were with Darius and Lauren, I think. Should already be at camp.” Miranda shrugged off Orla’s question.

“Oh, yeah, they texted me saying they were doing full contamination screening. Civil war with bioweapons going on and all that.” Megan winced before holding up her phone with an indicative wave. Moira cast a glance to Claire, biting her lip apprehensively. 

“Suppose we should go and get it over with.” Claire sighed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. The small group moved off towards the customs lines, following the multilingual signs. Miranda walked quickly, a subtle, passive aggressive move to be first in line. Claire rolled her eyes as she allowed herself to be overtaken, Megan walking up close to Claire as Moira and Orla tried to keep up.

“She was insufferable on the way over, wouldn’t stop talking about all the shit she would change if only she was put in charge for once.” Megan muttered just barely loud enough for Claire to hear.

“Lovely, already guilty of sedition against my autocratic rule.” Claire scoffed as Megan giggled.

“Shall I arrange an accident, dear leader?” Megan joked as Claire smirked, shaking her head.

“Nah, I just hope her sermons on her ambitions fall on deaf ears. I’m already dealing with the Jeffreys’ bravado, they actually convinced Nelson to add a weapons locker to this mission.” Claire added as they filed in behind the rest of their cohort, the line slowly moving as customs officials called out for people to have their passports and exposure charts ready.

“I thought you preferred to have a gun at your side on these missions?” Megan questioned as they took another step forward, Miranda passing through screening.

“Yeah, but I know how to use one. Also, I wouldn’t walk around like some BSAA wannabe with it. Having a gun visible sends a very different message than the one TerraSave needs to be sending.” Claire countered as Megan nodded.

“Makes sense, and we already have the BSAA here just in case.” Megan returned as Claire was beckoned to one of the customs booths.

“Exactly, see you at the baggage claim.” Claire called out as she walked up to the booth.

“Passport and contagion tracker.” The accented English of the customs enforcer greeted. She presented her documents and braced herself for the usual line of scrutiny.

“What brings you to Iarna Valea, Ms. Redfield?” The enforcer asked robotically as they scanned Claire’s passport.

“Business, relief work with TerraSave.” Claire answered briefly.

“Very good and you—” The enforcer stopped suddenly as they picked up Claire’s contagion exposure form. “Um—give me a moment.” They added, picking up their phone as Claire sighed. The enforcer said something in their native language after a moment and then set the receiver down. “You are going to have to pass through full biohazard decontamination protocols before you are allowed to enter the country, Ms. Redfield.”

“I figured.” Claire sighed, blowing out a long breath before answering.

“One of my colleagues will escort you to the decon showers in a moment. She will provide you with further instructions.” The enforcer finished as Claire stepped out of line. A squat, older woman approached her after a short wait and led her to the far end of the customs wing. Claire was led to a small locker room marked with a biohazard warning sign. Claire was given a thin, multilingual brochure detailing proper decontamination procedure. She entered the dim locker room, the tiled floor bathed in UV light. Claire tossed the brochure immediately and took a small, travel-sized bodywash from a dispenser on the wall. She knew how this went and the chemical mixture was going to leave her skin dry as hell.

“Thank god I remembered lotion this time.” Claire muttered as she chose one of the lockers. She stowed her belongings, disrobed and grabbed a towel from a pile left near the room with several private stalls. The warmth of steam and patter of a running shower greeted her as she stepped into one of the empty stalls. “Someone else already here?” Claire wondered as she set about a quick decon shower. She was out before the other occupant, wrapping the towel around herself, grabbing another one on her way out to dry her hair.

“Guess we’re the only two fucked up enough for this containment level.” Jill’s voice surprised Claire as she whirled to see her friend stepping up to one of the lockers across the room. Jill had already dressed in her dark cargo pants, her back facing Claire as she fished out her sports bra from the locker. 

Jill’s back was covered in marks, white lines, raised patches of healed skin scarred over in both clean and jagged patterns. Each one told a different story, each one from either a bioweapon or from her years as a test subject; poked and prodded and cut up. It made Claire want to weep. Her eyes followed the clear line of Jill’s spine up her back, the broad muscles of Jill’s shoulders flexing as she reached up into the locker. Claire lost herself in the shifting lines of her arms as Jill pulled the crisscrossing fabric of her black undergarment over her bare skin. The result of more experimentation? Claire remember the performance enhancers Chris talked about, remembered how Jill’s arm had felt when she had laid her hand on it. Seeing it was something else. Jill’s arms where cut, dangerous looking, muscle’s flexing with the simple mechanical movement of dressing. Her back responded to each subtle shift in her torso, the dark UV lights casting a vaguely purple shadow over the valley of her spine amongst the tensing rise of her lower back. Claire’s eyes where dared to keep following the lines of Jill’s waist as she turned, her abs tensing and relaxing with her steady breathing, her chest discolored and scarred over from where Wesker’s red device had been and—Claire froze. Jill was facing her now, had already been for a few seconds. There was not chance to look away as Claire slowly raised her eyes to meet Jill’s, cheeks burning red under the purple lighting.

“Like what you see?” Jill coughed a laugh through her self-satisfied smirk, her hands resting on her hips as her stance leaned onto her right leg, head cocked.

“No!” Claire exclaimed, quickly, shaking her head and wincing. “No its no that I don’t, you look amazing, I mean, its not what I was—shit.” Claire stammered, placing the edge of her palm against her forehead, the other clutching the folded hem of her towel as she avoided Jill’s gaze. Jill took another step forward, closing the distance between them, folding her arms across her chest and shaking her head. She let out a low laugh, a genuine sound, drawing out the last breath of amusement as she smiled at Claire.

“Its ok Claire, I mean shit, I’m still a bit shocked by the mirror sometimes. It still doesn’t quite feel like my own. The rapid healing and performance enhancing shit they did to me—it’s made me ridiculously fit.” Jill paused, eyes going blank for a moment before shaking it off with a broken laugh. Claire dared to look up at her, Jill stretching her arms out in front of her, twisting them around as she tensed the muscles. “I feel like I always was decent, keeping up with training for the BSAA and all but I could never do this on my own.” Jill added, running her hand over her stomach. Claire’s eyes followed the tips of Jill’s fingers, willing the blush out of her cheeks. She bit the corner of her lip to keep from gasping as Jill deliberately flexed her abdomen. Claire looked up again to see Jill’s mouth curling in a mischievous smile. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Y’know,” Jill started, taking another step towards Claire, leaning her arm against the locker above Claire. Claire instinctively stepped back as she picked up the mild aroma of fig scented body wash on Jill, feeling the cold steel of the locker against her bare shoulder, towel still tightly wound around her torso, “most of my next few days is going to be paperwork, signing off on exercises, camp set up and attending mission briefs as we drive our stakes in. Think we might have time to catch up during that?” Jill posed. Claire dared a look up into Jills eyes and held the gaze for a moment, opening her mouth to speak, but unable to find the words. Jill found hers first. “I mean, it gets really lonely in command. I’m sure Chris has told you, but it gets lonely, I’ll be alone and I,” Jill paused and took a deep breath, looking away for a moment, “I feel like I’ve been alone for a really long time.”

Claire flinched slightly as she felt the warmth of Jill’s touch, the back of her fingers gently running along Claire’s collar bone, over to her shoulder. In a flare of confidence, in seeing Jill drop her guard just a bit for her, Claire reached up and laced her fingers with Jill’s, gripping her hand and pressing Jill’s against her shoulder.

“I get it—I think I do I mean, and I would like that, to keep you company.” Claire spoke softly, looking down at Jill’s hand as she held it against her shoulder, a bit awkwardly but Jill didn’t pull away. Claire looked up at Jill, offering a shy smile to Jill’s drifting expression. It broke through and she grinned, shuffling a bit closer. Claire inhaled through her nose as Jill’s hip brushed against her.

“They usually get me hot meals instead of field rations, soft perks of command. Should we call it dinner then?” Jill dared, free hand finding a hanging strand of Claire’s still wet hair. Jill twirled it around her middle and pointer finger idly as Claire felt the warmth in her cheeks flare against the cool air of the locker room. Jill caught on to Claire’s nervous silence and flashed a bright smile.

“Relax, Claire, I don’t bite.” Jill toyed, leaning closer, the heat of her breath on Claire’s ear as she whispered. “Much.”

Claire yipped with surprise as she felt Jill’s teeth gently close on her ear, a soft nip before Jill pulled back, spun on her heels and returned to her locker. Claire remained pressed against the locker, face red and heart racing as Jill slipped on a simple BSAA field shirt and leather jacket.

“Tomorrow night, let’s say six?” Jill asked as she slung her back over her shoulder.

“Ye—yeah, sounds good.” Claire whispered, a throaty wind forced out as Jill winked at her and walked off out of the locker room. Claire shook a violent shiver down her spine as she reached up and brushed her fingers over her ear. “Real smooth Redfield.” Claire hissed silently as she felt for the lingering warmth of Jill’s touch against her skin. “Wait to act like you’ve never talked to a woman before.”

Jill stepped out of the locker room, chin held up as she stepped past the customs section of the airport, moving off to the baggage claim. She rode the high for a moment before she failed to keep the stupid grin from spreading over her face. She paused, pulled out her cell phone and pretended to look at a text. Jill let herself laugh, without holding back, drawing a deep breath, enjoying the rush.

“She’s so fucking cute, I can’t.” Jill muttered to herself, shaking her head as she let the grin stay, pocketing her phone and walking off to find the rest of her luggage.

Leon rotated the black key card over several times in his hand, the silver lettering indicating a top floor suite as he made his way down the ornate hall of the Imperial Hotel Ostrava. His shined black shoes landed with soft, muffled thuds against the red carpet, silencing as he came to a stop in front of one of the rooms. He inserted the black card into the slot and the lock whirred, clicked and the light flashed green. Leon pushed down on the brass handle and stepped into the suite.

He entered into a large sitting room complete with small bar top and kitchenette. There was a red sofa stood upon dark, carved, wooden feet and a glowingly varnished coffee table. The only light came from dim yellow recesses by the bar and the fluttering of several candles in deep iron lamps sat upon the table.

“That was quicker than I thought it would be.” Ada hummed as she floated into the room. She was wrapped in a deep black kimono decorated with blue and white lilies winding around her body up to her shoulders. A whisp of steam danced up from a small mug in her hand. “Can I offer you anything, Mr. Kennedy?”

“Answers.” Leon returned as Ada flattened her mouth in a silent pout. She sighed, sitting on the red sofa, crossing one leg over the other. She sipped silently from her drink before meeting Leon’s eye.

“Your question then?”

“Who are you working for this time?” Leon got straight to the point, to what he _needed_ to know.

“I’ll say this Leon.” Ada began, setting her mug down on a cork coaster emblazoned with the Imperial Hotel logo. She leaned forward on her knees and looked Leon in the eye. “After the Family, after we stopped Simmons and Radames, I reevaluated my role in all this. I was done serving the likes of the Family, the Hive and Wesker. I mean it.” Ada implored, eyes firm as Leon held her gaze. She took a long breath and continued.

“The Hive started a project a while ago, collaborating with a group I’ve only ever heard referred to as their connections. A new emergent company opposes this group while also needing samples of their new weapon. That’s what they’ve hired me to obtain.”

“I’m supposed to help you get them? Why? Why shouldn’t I destroy it?” Leon challenged as Ada sighed again, leaning back against the couch.

“Because Cromwell has been smuggling in spores from this weapon to Iarna Valea. He’s been smuggling them in for months.”

“That’s unlikely.” Leon shook his head, looking at the floor before back up at Ada’s stoic expression. “The Valley has just been dealing with T-virus weapons and some basic Plagas.

“And no one yet has cures for this weapon, it’s novel. They call it their E series bioweapon, host control like Plagas but using mutamycene spores and contact for infection. Very potent, very dangerous and the carrier can hide in plain sight.” Ada added as Leon took a long breath. “Cromwell has been hiding canisters of spores in TerraSave aid shipments and has yet to deploy any. That means he’s planning on putting on a show. You help me get a sample from their next shipment, which happens to be processing here in Ostrava and I will let you wipe out the remaining weapons. You can even take a sample back to Ingrid so DSO can begin work on a basic inoculant.” Ada finished with a small flick of her wrist. “That amenable to you?”

“And you aren’t selling this to another arms dealer, no rogue government no—”

“Leon.” Ada interrupted firmly. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, Leon standing and walking over to were Ada sat. He set down next to her and gently took her hand in his.

“Tell me again.” Leon asked quietly, looking from Ada’s red varnished nails to her fierce and stern eyes.

“Leon, I am no longer selling these things to arms dealer’s and fanatics. I’m in this for my own gain, but I will not bring harm to people anymore. You will get your information on Cromwell and a sample of the weapon spores. I will let you destroy the rest. I promise you.” Ada spoke directly, with conviction, her hand squeezing his as she affirmed her promise. Leon nodded, holding eye contact for a moment. He was searching her, for anything resembling a tick or a hint that she may be holding something back. His finger lingered over her wrist, feeling her heart rate, steady and calm.

“When do we start?”

“Just let me get dressed.” Ada started to stand, Leon tightening his grip on her wrist and pulling her back. She could have stood anyway, could have flipped Leon over onto the coffee table if she wanted, but Ada relented and allowed Leon to guide her back down to the couch. He leaned in and Ada cupped his cheek with her hand as he pressed his lips to hers.

“Thank you.” Leon whispered as Ada pulled back, letting out a dry laugh.

“You don’t have to thank for that sort of thing, but it’s a nice quality in you.” Ada smirked as Leon shook his head.

“I meant for being honest. It’s a nice quality in you, when you choose to show it.” Leon returned as Ada starred at him for a moment.

“I’ll be right back.” Ada stood, looking back down at Leon with a slight grin. “Promise.”

Jill inhaled deeply as she stepped out of the Bergatrollet International Airport, the frigid musk of mountain trees and languid ice crusting the surfaces of buildings burning her nostrils. The airport terminal had a large parking lot lined with grey roofed buildings, multi-storied skyline of old, Soviet styled architecture mixed in with ancient looking stone and mortar gothic buildings. A few high rises crested above the gently swells of snow-capped roofs, sloping melts showing black and fading shingles beneath, the mountains looming large in all directions on the horizon. Their grey visage glowed in the hazy-half light of the winter afternoon. Overcast weather bled the low sunlight into a near purple hue as automatic headlights began to flicker to life early on the road. 

Jill was pulled away from the landscape as the rumble of a familiar sounding engine broke from the bustle of distant aircraft and homeward bound travelers. A BSAA marked Humvee in dark, grey livery pulled up near Jill as she stepped off towards it.

“Hope your flight was good!” Barry called out as he stepped out of the vehicle and walked over to help Jill with her bags. “Welcome to Iarna Valea.”

“They had whiskey.” Jill shrugged, trying to keep a growing smile off her face. She wasn’t in the mood for it, but Barry had bothered to come out to greet her. That meant something, and his smile was infectious. Jill relented and grinned. “Your daughter came off my flight, she should be somewhere around—”

“She doesn’t want to see me right now, trust me.” Barry brushed off. “I already texted her and got left on read. That’s still par for the course with Moira and me but—things are getting better. She might come have dinner with us one night.” Barry added as he loaded Jill’s luggage into the back of the Humvee. 

“Fair enough, glad to hear you two are getting around to, well something like normal.” Jill laughed, setting down in the passenger seat and slamming the armored door closed. The engine rumbled loudly as Barry pulled away from the terminal and onto Bergatrollet’s main roadway.

“What you said reminds me, since you’re my head of security.” Jill smirked, leaning her elbow against the window, arm up, wrist hanging loose as her finger twirled through her loose hair. “Claire might—will be coming by tomorrow around eighteen hundred. Let the gate know to give her a pass.”

“Oh.” Barry said quietly, glancing at Jill quickly, smirking before turning his attention back to the road. Jill smirked back, swatting at his shoulder.

“Hush.” Jill laughed, Barry pretending to take offense.

“I didn’t say a damn thing.” Barry laughed. They let the mirth hang in the air for a moment, the mood souring as they approached a roadblock. Soldiers wearing the flag of Iarna Valea waved them on, Barry nodding to them. A few BSAA soldiers were mixed in as they were guided through a makeshift gate into a different part of the city near the outskirts.

“This the dead quarter?” Jill asked softly after a moment of driving through near empty streets. Windows were either boarded up or broken, very little foot traffic along the sidewalks. There was an occasional military patrol, large concrete walls, twenty feet high capping the ends of some of the side streets. One in ten buildings looked uninhabitable. Some where burned out hulks of steel and brick, others melted into piles of rubble that spilled into the street like a pierced lava cake.

“Yeah. Urban fighting was nastiest here not two weeks ago. Ceasefire has been holding and we’re down to just some minor T-virus cleanup within the city limits. Most infected people are accounted for and being treated, all within this quarantine. Exit to the country is coming up soon, we’re just a couple miles outside the city limits.” Barry answered as the kept driving, a steady and cautious pace through the leprous district of the capitol.

“You did well, pulling that together so quickly.” Jill muttered after a steady silence, the next checkpoint coming up in their view.

“Was more the peacekeepers doing, honestly. I just brought the BSAA credibility.” Barry shrugged as Jill frowned. “And muscle, if we’re being honest.” Barry added, Jill’s grimace fading.

“Yeah, people still seem to notice that at least.” Jill sighed through her speech as she sat back in her seat. The soldiers manning the checkpoint held up a hand for them to stop. They circled the vehicle. Spraying it down with disinfectant, giving Barry a thumbs up after a minute, the gate lifting.

“The peacekeepers and TerraSave have been doing good work here Jill, don’t discount that.” Barry added as Jill forced herself to nod.

“I know, I’m just more concerned by the guerilla’s, the other town’s militia’s and the Army Valea.” Jill sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We still aren’t even sure who hit that TerraSave convoy last month.” Jill added as they pulled out of the city, the buildings spreading thin as the roadway widened, Barry picking up speed. The country began to roll, green pines dancing and swaying as cool air currents flowed down into the valley and spun in icy eddies over the swaying treetops. 

“Could have been anyone. Each town outside of Bergatrollet has their own vigilantes and with winter coming, some people are feeling the pinch of an extended conflict. TerraSave is gonna be our best friend when it comes to keeping the peace. If everyone sees that bioweapons are the real enemy here, the peace may last.” Barry posed as they roared over the sparsely traveled highway. Save for the occasional burned out military truck off the road, it almost looked like a peaceful, normal landscape. There were small farms carved into breaks in the trees, the stacks of old factories not a mile from the city limits. The large looming steel hulk of a Soviet era textile factor stared off at Bergatrollet in a sullen, rusting silence. Windows boarded up and streaks of water stains peeling away at the sides of the structure. Off in the distance, mining operations crisscrossed the mountains, barely visible, like insects crawling over a distant, stucco wall.

“I hope you’re right.” Jill groaned, tone more sour than she had meant. She had hoped to convince herself, just a bit, but it hadn’t worked. She’d seen enough pipe dreams of peace blow up in the face of the well intentioned. Her words hung like a smog in the cab as they caught the bright glint of the BSAA camp lights nestled amongst large, temporary walls and structures visible behind the wire. It was set on a cleared hill with about a quarter mile of visibility in all directions. It was set high, Bergatrollet visible in the distance, glowing as evening began to descend on the Valley.

“Camp Lesovik. Named for some local folklore I think.” Barry broke the silence as they approached the main gate.

“Bet your girl would get a kick out of that.” Jill smiled, covering her mouth half heartedly to hide it. “She wouldn’t stop talking about it on the plane.”

“Speaking of, Becca’s wheels up.” Barry added as the stopped for inspection at the main gate of Camp Lesovik, now under the command of Jill Valentine.


	4. Mud to Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill faces her first crisis as commander as Leon and Ada make a discovering in the industrial districts of Ostrava. Claire settles in with her TerraSave team as harsh news is delivered and new commander is appointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took me so long to post! Thanksgiving plus my work slowed progress a bit. Well that and this wound up being a long chapter. Things start to go downhill here, Jill facing her first true disaster as commander and she can't shake the roller coaster of emotions it puts her through, fighting to stay in control while Barry nervously tries to guide her. That and Claire is just idly daydreaming about her at the same point XD
> 
> "Scary People" by Georgi Kay

_“Do we realize when we’re in the glue?  
Or when the water around us is boiling?  
Or do we sit there, saying  
This will be ok?”  
-Owen Sharma _

The air was oppressively dry, the kind that made your skin tense with the slightest breeze over it; air carrying heat and grit and dry. Cloth fluttered, muffled shouting in the distance, hot, dry, oppressive. Jill was moving, swinging, free fall—or something close. Pressure, pain, then give; something pulsed against her chest. Glass shattered, a hiss, smoke filling the room and suddenly, floor beneath Jill’s feet. She stood, sweeping the dark hem of a cloak around her and she screamed. Silently, her throat refusing to obey, but every impulse in her mind was screaming. Her body defied her will and stepped forwards. Three bodies on the floor. Her boots thudded hard on the warped, gritty wooden floor. It was like marching, back from muster in the army. Lead with the left and step; thud, thud. thud. Rhythmic and orderly, heel first then toe; thud, thud, thud. Left, right, left. Jill approached the bodies on the ground, smoke swirling around them as her steps thundered in her ears, loader each time. Thud, thud, thud.

Jill gasped hard, lurching up in her bed, her head lagging behind, a slight strain in the muscles of her neck. Her body woke fully, adrenaline dumping into her blood stream as panic scattered warning lights all over her sluggish rise to consciousness. Her muscles reacted first. 

Jill’s right hand shot out without her realizing, gripping the loaded handgun she kept by her bed. Her left flew to her chest, gripping her shirt, balling up the fabric as her nails dug into the scarred skin where Wesker’s device had been. It rooted her, Jill drawing a deep breath, forcing an exhale and taking in another, knuckles white as she gripped the gun.

“You’re in control.” Jill’s voice creaked past her lips, running through the mental exercises Rebecca had taught her. “You’re in control. You’re here and you’re in control.” Jill coughed, releasing her death grip on the weapon and brushing loose hair out of her face. Strands clung to her, irritating, damp. She was crying. Tears streaked over her cheeks, grabbing wandering and chaotic strands of her dark hair.

Thud, thud, thud.

Jill snapped back up, the sound coming from the door, accompanied by a young and nervous voice.

“Agent Valentine, ugh, sorry to wake you so late. Agent Burton has requested your presence in operations.” The warry voice of a junior BSAA aide came through the door. He sounded like someone who wasn’t entirely sure they were allowed to be speaking.

“Understood.” Jill called back, swallowing before righting her voice. Commanding and confident. She needed to hear it more than the nervous soldier outside. “Let him know I’ll be three minutes.”

“Yes ma’am.” The aid called back followed by the soft sound of his footsteps down from the door. Jill sat up quickly, slipped into the boots at the edge of her bed then clicked on the dim lamp at her bedside. Two pill bottles, a generic branded bottle of water, an id badge, her holster. Jill knocked back a capsule from both, a swig from the water bottle, then slung her BSAA field jacket around her shoulders. Jill laced her boots before fixing her holster to her hip, clipping the strap to her leg. She slid two loaded magazines into small pouches farther down her leg and her handgun smoothly into the nylon and poly-plastic sheath. She dared a glance at her smart watch, four-thirty in the morning. Becca was due to report in about an hour from now. Jill had set an alarm for it. She quickly cancelled it before leaving her bedroom.

Jill’s quarters in camp were set up in a basic structure meant to be temporary. Cheap and quick to set up but much nicer than the field tents laid out on the base for the BSAA ground pounders. It had heat, a kitchenette, a bathroom, shower, office and bedroom. It was larger than Jill’s Raccoon City apartment. The thought made her smirk.

“Moving on up, huh Valentine?” Jill muttered to herself as she swung open the front door. She was struck by an icy stream of air, her breath forming a storm cloud in front of her face as she forced back a gasp. Her boots crunched into the earth, it had been a bit muddy last night after a light rain and that had all frozen now. The soldier that stood guard by her door offered a soft nod to her behind his face mask and goggles, rifle slung over his shoulder, no saluting in a war zone.

Jill returned the silent gesture, stepping off quickly through the small neighborhood of other temporary structures. There was a slight buzz in the camp, livelier than it ought to be around this hour.

“Returning patrols.” Jill muttered to herself as she noticed a platoon of BSAA soldiers in formation, quickly making their way through the sea of tents walled in by icy Hesco barriers. The only true buildings save for the neighborhood of trailer temporaries were three, trapezoidal concrete and earth structures positioned at different ends of the camp. They were large, covered with tons of soil with concrete walls in front of them, some of the first things set up in the camp. Two were bunkers in the event of an artillery attack and the third was being used to store the camp’s ammunition stockpile and had a locking gate around it’s entrance.

Jill had designed this expeditionary force to lean and limber, light armored vehicles and specialized infantry. That and they hadn’t intended to be pacifying the Valley, the risk of attack from the two sides was low. Still, the bunkers stood and a small battery of one -five-five howitzers- on loan from the French Army -were dug into position at the south end of the camp. Jill reached the central ops tent, she had it rotated every week to keep its exact location hidden. 

The war in Iarna Valea had been very oddly balanced. The government forces controlled the military but lacked broad support outside of the capitol province. The separatists lacked material and expertise but were excellent guerillas. The government fired artillery at the separatists, raided towns and set up checkpoints. The separatists lobbed rockets back at them, staged single strikes and ambushes but little changed in the way of battle lines.

This is where the bioweapons came in. Each side blamed the other for first use, it was rather irrelevant. They had both wiped out small villages in each other’s territory. A rocket loaded with T-virus, a POW returned with a Plaga in them, a village torn apart by lickers. Civilian bodies were piling up, TerraSave was becoming a target for angry guerilla’s and disgruntled government units. Things were fractured, people weary and strained. That’s when commanders and leaders started looking the other way when a unit left the wire without stating their mission after losing too many comrades; or when a TerraSave worker would go missing in one of their sectors. This is where the BSAA comes in, provides stability, arbitration and expertise. 

Jill shook her head at the thought, what Director Campbell had brow beaten her with after she had gone off in the briefing with Ingrid Hunnigan. She couldn’t shake the feeling the BSAA had lost focus, become too big and was trying to do too much. Jill banished any lingering doubt on her face as she entered the ops tent, Barry and a handful of other BSAA operatives looking up to greet her.

“Report.” Jill demanded quietly as she approached a multimonitor tac-op workstation, a pair of BSAA technicians with headsets seated in front of it. The display showed a satellite map of the Valley, GPS tracker points of all BSAA assets and patrols. Jill’s eye was drawn to one far outside of their area of operation, in the foothills of the north west. The point was moving steadily along a small road near a mark indicating the Melna Upe Power Plant; a coal fired plant that provided all the electricity for the Valley.

“SAM launch took down an aircraft coming in from Prague. Crash reported somewhere on the Valley side of the mountains.” Barry answered Jill”s command as a sharp stab of fear throttled Jill’s heart.

“Our incoming flight?” Jill asked, voice soft and croaking, her confidence dropped and left behind as she tried to fight of the icy, crystalizing dread. Barry tilted his chin down in a reluctant nod.

“We believe so. I sent a patrol out to confirm and look for survivors.” Barry added. He only said it to try and soften the blow. Survivors. Unlikely, like searching a collapsed building days after, sifting through old rubble where there are no heartbeats. No one wants to admit they’re just looking for bodies. Anger, Jill began shoveling her grief into the billowing flames of rage.

“Who’s launch. I read brief after brief that no one in this fucking ice scape has SAMs.” Jill hissed as Barry looked at the force’s intelligence liaison. 

“It’s possible it could be a cache, or a recent arrival along the same smuggling routes that the bioweapons have been coming through.” The thin man in a sharp BSAA field uniform spoke up as Jill’s eyes bore into him.

“The Government has the ability to launch SAMs but they’ve surrendered them all to the EU, part of the deal to have us come and arbitrate.” Barry said. “They’ve given us access to inspect their depot’s.”

“Call them up and do it now. Same with our liaison from the separatists.” Jill interrupted angrily as Barry seemed to want to add, reluctantly.

“That’s also part of the problem. No response, not even the basic radio call. Nothing on both sides.” Barry winced as Jill’s fists clenched. She knew she needed to stay focused, but the anger was gnawing deep, setting into her bones like the night cold cutting through her thin jacket.

“Rebecca was on that plane.” Jill thought, finally letting herself look it in the face. To think about what had _really_ just happened. “I want you to—”

“I’ve reached out to the civilian contacts in both territories. Bergatrollet Police and the Jauns Riga militia both have sent runners to their respective military camps to reestablish communications. We will get answers, and someone will be held to account.” Barry interjected as Jill let out a long breath, venting some of her rage into the cold air of the tent. She nodded as her mood collected, resumed her commanding and objective demeanor. 

“I want a rapid reaction force mustered. ICV’s running and at the gate.” Jill delivered flatly as Barry turned to one of the aids standing a few feet behind him.

“Dragoons ready to go, wake Feirhand, tell the captain to have his unit loaded for bear and stand by for commander’s intent.” Barry ordered as the BSAA soldier nodded and bolted out of the ops tent.

“Looks like our patrol is at the crash site. We have the feed?” Jill asked as one of the technicians manning the display looked up at her and nodded. They passed Jill a headset as the map of the Valley shrunk to the upper right corner, the screen now dominated by several bobbing visions of an icy mountain roadway. Beams of headlights cut into the black wilderness as floating flakes of new snow danced in front of the cameras like fireflies.

“Team is dismounting now, patching you through.” The tech spoke as Jill heard a hissing in her ear as her earpiece and microphone became active. “Tanto lead, this is Carpathian. Patched through with mission commander.”

“Tanto lead this is Vermillion, sit rep.” Jill commanded as she heard the idle radio static enter her ear.

“Approaching crash site now, looks like the wreckage could be in the mountains itself. Weather is beginning to become a problem, no visible rocket trail.” The gruff voice of the platoon leader came through the radio as Jill watched the team fan out. Security began to patrol outwards as the team moved off in the direction of a soft orange glow peering out of the dark and growing storm.

“Understood, stand by.” Jill returned as she silently starred at the camera feeds. The team advanced into the trees for several hundred yards until a gouge through the woods began. Trees where shredded of branches, some snapped in two, their evergreen tops cast aside. The snow was settling over a streak of black, upturned soil, bits of crumpled and peeled metal cast all around like grim confetti. 

“Crash site reached, fan out. Search for positive id and survivors.” The commander of Tanto platoon called out as the camera feeds became disparate, forming a loose grid pattern by fire team. Jill caught herself holding her breath, one feed showing the tree line giving way to a sharp cliffside, scattered debris, destroyed timber and flowing fuel fires tumbling down the side of the mountain. Scattered orange flames burned hundreds of feet below in more oppressively dark woods.

“Vermillion to Tanto Lead. Any sign of the fuselage?” Jill couldn’t hold back the silence as the words spilled from her mouth.

“Based on the angle of debris, fires still burning, I’d say it looks to be in the gorge ma’am. We’ll maintain search patterns here, but we’d need rotor craft to get down there and the wind is starting to get—”

“Understood Tanto, maintain search pattern.” Jill snapped, unable to bear any more. It was a soldier’s report, an accident report. Rebecca was there, in the burning wreckage of a plane ripped to pieces in a stormy gorge. Jill was horrified by the thought that crept into her mind. “I hope she died on impact.” It was dark but the idea of Rebecca freezing, bleeding or burning to death threatened to bring Jill to her knees. She fought the dread, tried to focus on maintaining her commanding demeanor, pinching the bridge of her nose and shutting her eyes as the grief crashed over her and lulled.

“Boss!” Jill heard one of the search team call out to their squad leader. Their camera fell on a flat piece of grey aluminum. It was shredded at one end but looked to be part of the aircraft’s rudder. Half of the BSAA globe and the white letters “B” and half of an “S” were visible.

“Tanto, I’d call that confirmed id on the aircraft.” Jill sighed as she watched the piece of telling debris appear on more feeds on the monitors. “Pack up, we’ll try to get a helo out as soon as the storm clears and—”

Jill was abruptly cut off as a loud roar ripped through the radio, several feeds going wild as the search teams looked off towards the west. A gleaming yellow light broke through the snowy dark sky. 

“SAM launch!” Tanto lead called out as the map of Iarna Valea dominated the monitors again. One of the techs began speaking rapidly on another line.

“BSAA Carpathian to BEI air traffic control be advised, rogue triple A in north west airspace, missile in the air. Ground all aircraft until further notice.”

“That can’t be more than a mile from the search team, Jill?” Barry observed, leaning on the desk to get a better look at the minimized helmet feeds.

“Tanto Lead, can you follow that launch trail?” Jill demanded as she nervously watched two radar contacts in the northwest region of the Valley, both labeled as civilian aircraft.

“Yes ma’am, estimated eight minutes to contact.” The platoon leader called out as the team ran back to the convoy. Jill watched one camera which tracked the missile as it soared into the clouds, the light diffusing in a strange sort of glow. Jill flinched sharply as red and yellow light bloomed above the storm, the rapidly moving convoy illuminated from a brief moment as the landscape was washed over with an explosion, a glowing streak descending from the clouds.

“Who’d they hit.” Jill asked in the grim silence of the ops tent.

“Flight CSA-255, civilian passenger plane.” One of the technicians reported, a conspicuously missing radar blip on the map as the only sound in room was the wind whipping around the edges of the tent. The silence hung, stagnant as Jill stared at the screen, the convoy stopping again and the team moving into an assault formation. Lights were cut and the feeds turned grayscale as the platoon switched to thermal vision. 

There was a large, unmistakable form of an armored vehicle, treads distinct from the snowy brush. Its oversized and cage-like turret was pointed skyward, racks for three large missiles all empty except for one.

“Soviet make. No insignia obvious though.” Jill commented as one of the feeds showed two soldiers taking closer positions. Both shouldered small anti-tank rockets, primed and ready to fire. “Take it out Tanto lead, we have one more civilian flight in the AO.” Jill called as the camera feed marked “TLDR” seemed to nod. A swift hand signal gave to blooming white over the infrared view. When the cameras adjusted, the SAM launcher was a burning wreck.

“Well done, sweep and then head to the secondary crash site. Grab the black box if you can, search for survivors, then return to base. Vermillion out.” Jill commanded as she pulled her headset off and set it down.

“Ideas, where the hell did that come from.” Jill growled, turning to Barry, the operations officer and the intelligence liaison.

“Smuggled over the border, crossings have been quarantined but that just means no one’s looking on the Valley side, just the EU side.” The operations boss offered.

“Could have been hidden from our initial sweeps, claimed as destroyed. The government forces still control the tunnel construction site and the power plant, and we haven’t had a presence there.” The intel liaison spoke next, Jill looking him in the eye as he shook a shiver down his spine.

“I think I might have it.” Barry spoke up. His arm was across his chest, gripping his elbow, hand on his chin as he looked at the monitors. “There’s an old Soviet missile silo north east of here, on one of the most rugged sections of the mountains. It is still technically Russian Federation property, but they disarmed it decades ago. Its been sealed off and neither force went near but it’s possible some derelict equipment could be stored there, scavenged from the bunker ruins. Local Soviet Commanders often hid assets from their superiors, especially near the fall. There’s a mine on what’s left of the base, it’s entirely possible there was some material stored in the tunnels and we’re now seeing it get shuffled into the deck.”

Jill gritted her teeth. She remembered the footnote from her briefings, from the dozens of reports on the valley. It wasn’t Barry’s fault, it wasn’t anyone here’s fault, but she was angry. She was angry and they were the ones in front of her.

“Got it. Bring the team back, they’re going out there next. Make sure there’s a bird in the sky as soon as this storm clears.” Jill hissed, fighting to keep her rage down, it was useless right now. “Save it for the bastards who did this.” She thought to herself as her fists clenched and unclenched, working the anger out.

“Understood. I’ll contact you as soon as we reach the belligerents.” Barry called after an already departing Jill.

Ada slid her black Maserati into park in a dirt alley between a warehouse and large, steel walled industrial building. Leon sighed as he stepped out, suit traded for black cargo pants, turtleneck, and strap holsters around his shoulder. On his belt he had six magazines for the MP5 submachine gun he slung off his shoulder. 

They had driven just a couple miles south into the industrial part of the city that straddled a wide rail line. Ada had been sparse on details, as usual, flashing Leon a knowing smile as she stood from the driver’s side.

“This the one?” Leon asked, slowly walking around the front of the car.

“Two buildings over to the west. I know better than to come this close.” Ada rolled her eyes as she walked to the trunk. She had changed into a pair of dark slacks, boots and pocketed button up shirt to match the dark ensemble. Over it she wore a light harness, holsters held tight against her torso under her arms. Her belt held a few pouches around her hip, and she had a blade clipped to the strap running over her shoulder.

“Oh,” Leon started, biting his lip and looking off down the dark alley, “Should have figured.”

“This is why I drive, Mr. Kennedy.” Ada smirked as she lifted the lid of the trunk. She withdrew her weapon, twisting a suppressor onto the barrel. Ada stepped off down the alley, staying close to the wall, Leon a few feet behind her on the opposite side, sticking to the shadows cast by dim and filthy lights and what glow was cast by the moon.

Leon came to a halt as Ada raised a closed fist. He crouched with her as they observed a dark figure walk out between the buildings about a hundred yards ahead. A guard, local security company by the look of his uniform, the glint of light off his id badge hanging from his belt. He passed lazily on his way as Ada opened her fist and gestured forward. Leon followed her to a back door to one of the monolithic warehouses along the alley and tried the handle. It twisted with her hand, Ada looking over her shoulder at Leon. Her face was as stern as Leon had ever seen it. This wasn’t the Ada he had been used to seeing, appearing at opportune moments to let him know she was in the shadows or to stop him from ruining some aspect of her plan. This was Ada in her true form, a cold and deadly operator plying her trade.

“Head on a swivel in here, it’s gonna get a bit sticky fast.” Ada whispered as she slid the door open and floated through. Leon followed close, silently closing the door behind them.

“With the door unlocked? Are you really that worried?” Leon felt a bit foolish saying it, but he figured honesty was better than keeping the thought to himself. Ada would know he had something to add whether he spoke or not.

“Yes, it means they’re trying to pass this off as another lazy warehouse with lazy local guards. No one hides something valuable in a warehouse where things are left unlocked right? Hide something valuable in plain sight by tarnishing its shine. That means all the security is gonna be focused on our target making it much more dangerous.” Ada explained as Leon drew up close to her, feeling the heat coming off her body in the frigid dark of the warehouse. “Stick close in here, watch those office windows on the second floor. I’m going to lead us to those stacked crates on the north west end.” Ada finished before stepping off silently down a row of shelves packed with loose construction equipment wrapped in plastic with a variety of orange and yellow tags hanging from them.

Ada threw up a hand as soft shuffle brazed against Leon’s ear, barely loud enough to be distinguishable from the idle hum of the night, creaking beams and wisps of wind.

“Three guards, night vision, closing at two, four and six-o-clock. Play it off as me just hearing something, we’ll turn and fire when we reach the far end, right before they make their move. You get the one directly behind. Move.” Ada hissed quietly, Leon straining to keep up with her words. He nodded, glanced around feigning confused nervous glances into the warehouse. He saw nothing as Ada continued to advance. She softly clicked her fire selector to burst as they reach the door.

“On my mark.” Ada hissed.

“Sync.”

“Mark!” Ada commanded as Leon spun around and dropped to one knee. His sight fell on a vague shadow moving towards him. His instinct squeezed the trigger as he heard two rapid bursts from Ada next to him. The warehouse echoed, shattered by the tattoo of sudden gunfire, reverberation disappearing at the muffled edge of the suppressors. Three distinct thuds and disembodied groans followed as Leon glanced at Ada; her arm still locked, supporting her weapon as she scanned the dark rows of shelving.

“Silencer feels useless when everything is quiet.” Leon muttered as he let out the breath he had been holding.

“Keeps the noise from carrying, come one, let’s check the bodies.” Ada replied, stepping off in the direction she had fired, relaxing her aim but keeping her MP5 ready. Leon stepped off towards the shadow laying on the ground ahead of him. He shook as the sound of Ada’s submachine gun sounded again. “All good. Mortal wound hadn’t killed one yet.” Ada called back as Leon sighed with relief.

“Got it,” He returned, his voice just loud enough for Ada to hear. He held his weapon on the guard he had shot, a mild glow emanating from the goggles over his eyes, the night vision still active. There was a black pool spreading from under him, visibly moving. He was dead, Leon had hit something vital and torn through him. “Clear here.” Leon called back as he inspected the dead man’s equipment. It was clean and matching; coms, extra magazines, a medkit, security keys, zip ties and suppressors for both his rifle and his side arm. He carried a black painted, Herstal assault rifle with a matching handgun in a blood-spattered holster on his hip. All his equipment was painted the same sleek black, non-reflective and difficult to parse from his clothing even on close inspection.

“Professionals.” Ada gave voice to Leon’s thoughts as she stepped up on his left, looking down at the dead guard. “They still have to keep up the appearance of being normal private security, it will be at least to dawn before there are more. That and they can’t sound an alarm and draw attention, police reports and such. You’d better believe we’re fighting our way out if we take too long though. Let’s go.”

Leon followed Ada into the back rooms of the warehouse; offices and a few small storage rooms for sensitive and valuable goods. Ada picked one such room filled with what looked like shrink-wrapped batteries and electronic components nestled amongst opaque bags with medical labels. Leon stepped slowly between two small shelves, surveying the contents.

“Looks like surgical equipment. Syringes, scalpels, sample vials—”

“This room has basement access.” Ada interrupted as she stepped up to a breaker panel in the corner. She opened it, surveyed the switches for a moment and flipped one. There was a soft sliding sound like the automatic doors of a grocery store as a plate of the corrugated steel floor retreated under the wall, revealing a rickety metal staircase leading downward. The pair slowly approached it, Leon clicking the flashlight attached to the barrel of his gun, the beam revealing a dark service corridor about ten feet down.

“Ladies first?” Leon posed as Ada’s brow flattened in irritation. She grabbed Leon by the arm, forefinger and thumb squeezing the nerve in his upper arm and compelling him forward. Leon shook off the onset of numbness as he descended the stairs, boots clanging and echoing through the corridor as his flashlight traced exposed pipes and conduits bolted to the concrete walls. Leon’s nose wrinkled as he reached the bottom the stairs, a musty smell greeted his nostrils, thinly veiled with what smelled like medical disinfectant. It was like someone had wiped down a single piece of furniture in a room riddled with mildew and mold. 

Ada was down next to him in a beat, Leon keeping slow steady steps forward. They quickly came upon a small room with a single shelf along the far wall. It was loaded with racks of compressed nitrogen canisters.

“Odd place for storage.” Leon commented as Ada approached one of the canisters, running her hand over the warning label.

“They’re fakes, might have a little bit in them but they’re designed to hold something inside. These labels are usually painted on.” Ada observed quietly, more talking to herself than to Leon. “It’s just a sticker, watch.” Ada added, sliding one of the canisters out halfway on the rack. She gripped the bottom and top of the container and twisted, straining hard before the metal creaked and gave way. Ada unscrewed the two halves of the false container. Inside the clear steel hollow of the canister was a black container with no markings save for a red biohazard label and serial number. Ada stared at it for a long moment, Leon debating whether he should wait for explanation or ask for it.

“What is it?” He finally dared, disappointed by the simplicity of the question in the presence of Ada’s profound stare.

“It’s a spore canister, weapons grade. Meaning it can be hooked into a warhead, mortar shell or other deployment mechanism from this container. This is as good as a round to any rifle.” Ada spoke after another beat of throaty airflow through the corridor, whoosh of water through the exposed pipes. Her fingers where tensed around the spore container, as if she feared dropping it more than anything else.

“So, like T-virus plant experiments? This is it then, the distribution center we’ve been looking for.” Leon tried as Ada looked up to meet his eyes. She had given the same him the same gaze back in the hotel bar; no coy comment, not game, no act this time. She was scared by what they had found.

“No. This is weaponized mutamycene spores. The kind an E-type can produce and can be used to project its power to anywhere this weapon might be deployed.” Ada declared, her voice dark, slow as she explained. “These containers loaded up in the nitrogen canisters means they’ve been deploying them,” Ada took a long breath through her nose, “deploying them in a way they are meant to be used. The need to have some kind of processing here, or maybe even the weapon itself.” Ada added as Leon nodded, following most of what Ada was telling him. 

“So, we find it and destroy it. You take your sample and hand me the info I need.” Leon countered as Ada screwed the canister closed and slid it back into place.

“You have a deal, Mr. Kennedy. Let’s move.” Ada returned, the twinge of a smile as she gestured to a steel door directly opposite from the one the entered through. It led to another corridor, yellow maintenance lights glowing irregular patterns off the damp walls. The corridor had a steady flow of warm air coming through it, thick with moisture. The tunnel echoed with distant sounds of air filtration starting up, more water tricking through the pipes. They came to a pair of steel doors with a bolt drawn across them. Ada motioned to it, silently as she stepped back and watched the corridor. Leon tucked his weapon under his arm and lifted the bolt, pulling the door open slowly as Ada advanced, weapon raised.

“Stay alert in here.” Ada muttered as they stepped into what looked like a water treatment cistern that had been coopted into a storage facility and laboratory.

“No problem.” Leon returned, scanning a row of large containers filled with fluid. A shiver ran up his spine as his light cast over it, revealing the silhouette of a figure within the translucent, amber liquid. “Reminds me of that church in Tall Oaks.”

“Let’s hope things go better this time.” Ada returned as she checked the corner before advancing into the next area. A short corridor opened into a large room with a big tank centered among a bank of tubing and terminals. In the center of the tank, suspended by black tubes and floating in a blue liquid was the gaunt frame of a small girl. She was deathly pale, black hair floating in the liquid as she bobbed. Tubes ran all over her body, attached at critical points and a mask coved her face.

“Good god. Is that—” Leon trailed off as Ada raised a hand.

“E-types are designed to look like little girls. Keeps them well hidden and makes people second guess when it comes to dispatching them.” Ada explained, approaching the main terminal in front of the E-type’s container, taking a moment to silently examine it. “She’s on some kind of life support but—she’s brain dead. They have a series of synaptic commands hooked into her brain. It looks like they can maintain a small level of control over her infected, like how Umbrella had been able to command the Alpha parasite with their Nemesis project.” Ada explained, looking over at Leon. Her expression was dominated by deep concern, it hurt her to look at this girl like this. Leon couldn’t get over the fact that Ada had referred to the weapon as _her_ instead of _it_. She saw something in this girl, something that Leon dared to think might be a bit of herself and her own cryptic past.

“Help me put her out of her misery and I’ll send you the information. Help me burn this place to the ground and I’ll leave the sample I was sent to get.” Ada spoke up after a moment, staring at the floating girl. Anger had crept into her voice, her fist clenched, the leather of her gloves creaking as she kept it pressed against the steel casing around the life support monitor.

“No problem there. Just show me how.” Leon answered, his voice soft as he approached Ada, cautiously placing his hand on her shoulder. She looked over at him, eyes a little glassy as she forced a smile. If she was going to show emotion to him, Leon expected this was easier for her. She reached into her pocket and withdrew her smartphone, unlocked it and tapped it a few times.

“Show of good faith. My file on Cromwell has been sent to you. Let’s get this done, sun is already rising topside.”

Claire swore under her breath, catching a hangnail she had been worrying nervously all day. She bit her lip and finished tucking her sheets under the edge of her bunk. She had been pulled into a briefing as soon as they had made it to the TerraSave base camp. They were given the run down by Christopher Woodhull and then dismissed to their individual team commanders. Claire had lugged her bags across the camp to her team’s section and groaned through her briefing to her aid team. Most had come in on her flight and spared her any extra questions, but a handful of green members had insisted on asking. After that she was off to check in with the camp’s chief doctor and only now, at the end of the day, was she able to head off to her bunk. 

In a cordoned off area reserved for the US and UK aid teams’ equipment and vehicles where several trailers set up as barracks. Each one was stuffed with two sets of bunks, twin mattresses and a climb up top for whoever showed up late. Each trailer had a kitchenette with a two-person table and single bathroom and shower. Hot water was a luxury reserved for the earliest riser due to the cold temperature and limited resources in camp. Claire couldn’t help but think her decon shower had likely been her warmest for the next few months.

She had been the last to show up to the bunks; Moira, Orla and Megan had all lobbied to stay with their ringleader and had already claimed space. Moira had saved the bunk above hers for Claire with a smirk that told her that Moira had known exactly what she was doing. Claire had accepted it, and begun setting up, having a bowl of an “Irish mac and cheese” recipe Orla had made in the small kitchen leaving the place smelling like corned beef and melted cheese. Claire had returned to her bunk, desperate to get some sleep, jet lag dragging her down and threatening to lay her out on the floor.

“Really quitting on us?” Moira teased from the kitchen as Claire scrambled up to her bunk and flopped face down.

“I need like five hours of sleep and then I can handle the reading fuckhead Woodhull gave us.” Claire returned in muffled protest from her pillow.

“What the hell was with that? Nelson is like a day late and he already has us doing extra work so he looks good?” Orla called out as Claire rolled over onto her back with dramatic flair and mattress creaking.

“Small men with power trips pull that kinda shit all the time.” Moira explained as Claire inhaled deeply, covered her face and let out a long, spectacular sigh.

“He’s been gunning for Nelson’s job ever since he got relegated to mission planning and logistics. He gets to sit at the big table with the mission lead but its not nearly as prestigious since he’s still the supply bitch.” Claire added as Moira grunted in agreement. Claire laid her hands on her stomach and willed her mind to settle, she wanted some rest since she was planning on sneaking off tomorrow. Jill had invited her over during her req hours, but Claire would only have thirty minutes to get over to the BSAA camp on the other side of Bergatrollet and cabs had become problematic during the war.

“Maybe she’ll send a car for me.” Claire shook a silent laugh as the thought ran through her mind. She doubted it, but Jill might, she had a whole motor pool at her disposal. She considered texting Jill but knew she’d likely be at the head of some tactical center monitoring patrols or sitting in briefings that needed her full attention. Jill would likely message Claire in the morning, maybe something cute, letting her know how to best come over to the camp. Claire rolled over, facing the wall as a stupid grin spread across her face, against her will. She let herself daydream on, hoping it’d lull her into some kind of sleep.

Claire was shook from a slight doze, the sensation of falling snapping her up as Megan’s hand rocked her back and forth by the shoulder.

“Good you’re up,” Megan started as Claire squinted angrily at her, “Hey, sorry I know you need you rest but Woodhull just sounded emergency, briefing in five.” She finished as Moira stormed through the room, swearing under her breath. She had a hoodie hung around her arms and only one boot on as Megan and Orla were getting ready to head off towards the staff building.

The staff building was an old bank that had served the abandoned suburbs of Bergatrollet. It stood two stories tall near the edge of the camp’s fencing. It served as the main office for all the critical administrators, storage for sensitive equipment and critical medicine, their communications center and the office and residence of the mission lead and his senior staff. 

Claire shook off the shiver off as the violent, night wind lashed her cheeks red. The four aid workers followed a risen patch of gravel where the flow pipe from their multi-unit heater was buried. The system was woefully inefficient, keeping their trailers barely in the sixties at full blast, the farther from the propane boiler, the worse it got. Claire had been lucky to get the trailer closest to their heater, the steam traveling in insulated pipes only a few yards to their radiator. The air was always a tad warmer near the buried pipe and they followed it to the edge of their small neighborhood, joining another group of aid workers making for the large tent set up across the from the staff building where mission briefs and announcements were made.

Claire glanced at the faces gathering around her, Miranda’s bright hair grabbing her attention. Her lip curled in an involuntary gesture of revulsion before looking for more familiar faces. Robert Jeffries, the older of the Jeffries brothers was following closely behind Miranda. He was tall, wore his nut-brown hair in a high and tight military cut and walked with the air of someone who had always dreamed of being a military officer but was rejected from even the police academy. His nose was slightly pointed downwards, and he had at least three days of five o-clock shadow on his cheeks which hinted he might be trying to grow a beard. He was joined by his brother, Quintin, an equally wannabe soldier complete with surplus boots and camouflage pants, and their other two bunk mates. Travis Cortier; one of the few armed persons in the camp, working the job the Jeffries wished they had if only to put on the uniform and hold a gun; and Darrius Branagh, one of the few men from the second US aide team Claire trusted. He had told her during a training exercise in upstate New York about his father in Racoon City. Claire had remembered, debated on what to tell the young man and settled on the truth. He had avoided her for the day after, but during dinner sat down next to her. They sat in silence for a moment before Darrius broke down, thanking Claire for the closure as she hugged him. They weren’t quite friends, but had an understanding and respect for one another that few even on Claire’s own aid team understood. 

The huddle had turned into a few dozen aid workers, teams sent from multiple countries all squeezing into the well-lit gathering tent, space heaters glowing red along the edges as the wind whipped at the tarps hung like walls.

“Ok! Looks like we have nearly all here. Aid captains! Rapid head count! Thumbs up if you have everyone!” Christopher Woodhull called out from a raised platform at the head of the group, a projector screen hanging up behind him. The mission communications officer stood next to him, a last-minute replacement from the UK who seemed far too out of his element to be a member of the senior staff.

Claire begrudgingly accepted the command, looking to Orla, Moira, Megan and craning her neck to see the younger Jeffries brother and then searched for her last member. She caught sight of a thin dark ponytail and called out.

“Epperson!” The shout carried as the young woman turned, her cheeks glowing from wind burn before catching Claire’s gaze. She nodded, a straight face as Claire counted her last member and raised her hand in a thumbs up to Woodhull. She wasn’t sure what to make of Lauren Epperson yet, young woman had refused to re-enlist in the US Army in favor of TerraSave. Her heart was in the right place, Claire hoped, but she spent an awful amount of time around Miranda Lansdale, beyond just sharing a trailer with them due to space constraints.

“Ok, looks good. I have some difficult news to break so no preamble, we’re going right to it.” Woodhull yelled a cloud of breath out over the shivering crowd. “The BSAA has informed us that two aircraft were shot down near the north west border this evening by an unknown belligerent with anti-aircraft missiles. One was a BSAA marked plane and the other was a passenger jet. The BSAA is still conducting search and rescue missions as we speak but weather is delaying this. We suspect all souls lost on both flights. The civilian flight had Deputy Director Nelson on board and the senior staff, and I have agreed to presume he is dead. As such I am now taking control of this mission. Until we know the exact circumstances of this incident, we are going dark. No radio or telecoms communication in or out of the camp unless it comes through my office. I will update you as I get information from TerraSave Eurocom and the authorities in Bergatrollet. Dismissed.” Woodhull finished as a wave of murmuring grew out of the crowd.

Claire stood stunned for a moment, only noticing her mouth was open as her breath billowed up in front of her face. She turned to meet Moira’s gaze, equally bewildered.

“What the fuck?” Moira mouthed over the chorus of side bars around them as Claire turned to leave the tent.


	5. The Sum of All Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [!Trigger Warnings!]  
> [Graphic Depictions of Violence and Combat]  
> [Intense Body Horror and Gore]  
> [Suicide and Thoughts of Suicide]  
> [Major Character Death]
> 
> Camp Lesovik comes under direct attack by a mysterious force armed with catastrophic bioweapons. TerraSave watches in terror form afar as the mole in their ranks is flushed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really long and intense chapter (hence the warnings, please read!). This one took a long time because I really wanted to capture the feeling of being overrun and the desperation of the fight the BSAA puts up while not neglecting all the other moving parts here. That and I wanted to take a close look at how all of these events are clawing at Jill and the existing trauma she has been through.
> 
> "The Nothing" by SWARM. This song has a good beat and action quality for the battle sequence but ends on appropriately somber note.
> 
> "You Won't Find Me" by Narrow Skies. This song hits hard for me starting right after Jill leaves Camp Lesovik and the aftermath.

_“At its heart,  
Violence is almost always,  
In one way or another,  
Personal.”  
-Quellcrist Falconer _

The sun was beginning to blink over the mountains, carving through the haze of overcast clouds and scattering into a glow of soft light behind the gray blanket. A slow snow continued to fall as Jill sat at her desk, Barry across from her.

“Weather’s still keeping the birds out of Bergatrollet from searching.” Jill spat into the silence as she reclined in her desk chair. She slapped her tablet down so hard Barry winced, worried she had cracked the screen.

“Forecast isn’t good for the next day either, we should consider moving some heavy equipment out there to search the wreckage.” Barry posed as Jill folded her arms across her chest. She let out a long breath before pinching the bridge of her nose and shutting her eyes.

“I’m concerned that whoever did this may strike a target that large and vulnerable. We don’t have enough of a force here to risk that. Not until I hear back from both sides.” Jill groaned after a minute. “We should have by now, what’s taking them so damn long?”

“Comms said they’re in contact, but the runners haven’t yet returned. They dispatched another round at first light.” Barry returned as Jill nodded. She stared through her computer screen for a long moment, blowing a breath through her nose as she looked up at Barry. Her expression was stern and dark, something weighing heavy behind her eyes.

“Bring the camp up to combat alert. Everyone arms up and prepare for imminent attack.” Jill delivered firmly as she stood suddenly, turning to a large cabinet behind her. Jill had made it clear to Director Campbell that despite her leadership role, Jill intended to keep her SOA equipment close. Jill unlocked the cabinet and pulled out a tactical harness and slid it over her shoulders. She clipped the strap of an H&K carbine to it as she slid loaded magazines into pouches on her chest and belt.

“That means you too.” Jill added as she turned towards Barry as she set a radio on her belt and inserted the earpiece.

“Yes boss, sadly my gear is back in the armory.” Barry smirked as he stood. A slight smile crept up Jill’s lip as she shook her head.

“I’ll walk you, maybe comms has some good news for us.” Jill returned as they both stepped out of Jill’s trailer. She inhaled deeply, the crisp mountain air refreshing her, snow swirling around them, listless flakes as the pair of BSAA operatives made their way through the camp. Jill called out her command to bring the camp to full alert over her radio; the base coming alive as they moved through the temporary structures towards the operations tent. A group of four armed BSAA soldiers ran by them as they passed the east bunker on their way into the Hesco and tent city section of the camp. Jill glanced as the gravel covered motor pool, camouflage painted armored vehicles.

“I’m hoping that—” Jill’s sentence was abruptly cut off by a pulsing note screaming throughout the camp. The tone ground against Jills ears, reverberating off the mountains and back into the camp in an eerie echo, a keening rise and fall alarm that shook into her bones. She shivered as her body tensed, adrenaline and fear coursing through her. She knew the sound well, extremely well and it brought an old fear. She had buried it before the mansion, before the BSAA. Another keening siren started up, out of time with the first as Barry stared off towards the snowcapped mountains, seemingly in disbelief.

“Run! Now!” Jill screamed, grabbing Barry’s collar as a rocket screamed overhead, landing with a thunder on the far end of the base. Jill threw Barry towards the bunker they had just passed. More streaking screams sounded overhead as the base’s alarm sounded, shouting as men took cover. Another concussive blast as a rocket landed among the tents behind Jill. She reached the bunker with Barry and pushed him inside, more shouting as more soldiers ran to join them in the bunker.

“Fire control! Where the hell is that coming from?” Jill screaming into her radio as more rockets landed around them.

“Rocket fire coming in from the north east, targeted for indirect fire.” One of the artillery officers called out, his voice wavering. Several loud thuds crashed against the constant alarm, coming from the south as the base’s artillery responded to the incoming rocket fire.

“Attention! Attention! Alarm Red, all personnel seek shelter in a bunker, again all personnel seek shelter in a bunker.” A loudspeaker sounded as Jill stepped into the concrete tunnel, a dozen soldiers standing close, hunched over as the ground quaked with more rocket fire.

“Who the fuck is shelling us!” 

“Benson, shut your fucking mouth.”

“God damnit!” More shouting as dust billowed into the bunker, shrapnel clattering against the concrete slab in front of the opening. Jill blocked it out, men coping with the stress, with the terror in whatever way came naturally. 

A comforting sound broke through the din of rocket fire, a sound roaring like the sky was being unzipped as the camp’s phalanx air defense chased incoming missiles with streaks of fire. Jill dared a glance out the end of the bunker to see a red stream of rounds arcing through the early morning sky as the thunder of another rocked chased her back into the shelter.

Jill leaned against the edge of the bunker, trying to get a look out at the camp, the stock of her rifle held against her shoulder. There was a haze around the camp, distant shouting Jill couldn’t make out. She flinched as another rocket landed behind the bunker, the shockwave pushing dust and smoke through the bunker. There was another spectacular ripping sound, drowning out the shelling as a red whip seemed to take flight over the camp and strike another rocket out of the sky. As the echo of the phalanx canon faded against the mountains Jill heard the rev of a large diesel engine over the sirens. A small column of BSAA armored vehicles was making its way to the main gate, the rapid reaction force Jill had set at standby last night. 

“RRF moving out?” Barry shouted, as he came up to Jill’s side, watching the convoy move off.

“Looks like, alarms winding down, let’s move to the ops tent now.” Jill returned, stepping out of the bunker and keeping a quick pace towards the ops center. There where several fires burning at different points of the camp, a spectacular thud of the BSAA artillery returning fire to whomever had just rained rockets down on Camp Lesovik.

Half of the operations tent had collapsed, the tent next to it still burning as two BSAA soldiers attempted to suppress the blaze with fire extinguishers. Jill ran in, the intelligence liaison leaning over the ops station, one monitor nothing but a mess of warping colors, a piece of ash-covered steel lodged in the glass.

“Report!” Jill commanded as both soldiers looked up at her.

“Casualty and damage reports coming in, looks like they were targeting our artillery, munitions and communications. Our transmitter is completely destroyed, I have a team performing repairs to the phalanx as we speak, and they seem to have missed the ammo dump. So far platoon leaders have reported fifteen dead and thirty-eight wounded.” The ops officer spoke up, wiping his dirt covered face as he straightened up.

“Has Tanto reported in? Have we been able to reach out to the air crews at Bergatrollet?” Jill questioned as Barry turned to three soldiers who had just entered the tent, one handing him a spare rifle.

“No and no. Bergatrollet is dark, they seemed to have taken rockets too. Tanto is out of shortwave range and that’s all we have left and—”

“Ma’am!” One of the new arrivals interrupted to operations officer as Jill whirled on him.

“Apologies, captain Feirhand, we met resistance on the road in route to the rocket battery that fired on us. We lost one vehicle and two men, I retreated to a defensive position around the camp, my unit is presently deployed. I’d be with them, but no one is answering the damn radio.” The BSAA captain groused as Jill’s eyes narrowed.

“Defensive position? Who attacked you captain?”

“I can’t say for certain ma’am, the vehicles had both government and separatist identifiers but seemed to be working as a unit. We were severely outgunned, and the column was heading this way.” Captain Feirhand finished as the one-five-five artillery battery boomed another salvo in the distance. A new sound joined the din of artillery and shouting.

“Those your guns?” Jill questioned as she stepped off towards the entrance to the barely standing tent. A chorus of low, steady thumps began to rattle in the middle distance, punctuated by a crash of a large canon and more light fire thumping in bursts of three and five, sound ricocheting off the mountains. Three soldiers sprinted by Jill, all three with multiple anti-tank weapons slung over their shoulders. Jill broke into a slow jog as she reached the nearest watchtower. She climbed the rickety steel structure lined on all sides with slabs of concrete and Hesco barriers, Barry behind her.

Jill looked out at the slope leading to the north road to see it alive with eruptions of soil and blanketed with a gray haze. The rapid reaction force had dug in behind a series of hastily built firing positions and where targeting the tree line on the other side of the highway. Through the woods Jill could see flashes of gunfire, the movement of armored vehicles advancing out onto the battlefield as the BSAA defenses held them back. Two fires burned in the trees from destroyed trucks, black smoke swimming out from orange flames as they licked around the dry evergreens. The smell was starting to reach Jill, burning rubber and oil mixed with the haze of discharged gunpowder.

“Have the rest of the mechanized mount up and move to the eastern flank, woods are thin, we’ll burn them out if we have to.” Jill turned to Barry as he nodded and ran off. Jill fought the instinct to go with him; she was in charge, she needed to see the big picture if they were all to survive this sudden attack. Jill turned to hear footsteps, Barry returning to her side, giving her a thumbs up as he caught his breath.

“They’re moving out now, heading through the south entrance. One-five-fives are pummeling that tree line, but it seems like they moved a division on us, a fuck ton of hardware trying to encircle us a couple miles out.” Barry leaving the nebulous “they” without further explanation. He handed Jill a smart phone which she took with a raised eyebrow. “Cell towers are still working, figured you’d want to call this in, see if we can get some air support out of Turkey or somewhere closer.” 

“I’ll see if I can get through to BSAA Europe.” Jill replied as she dialed the regional number, staring out at the battle unfolding in front of her as the phone rang. “We hear anything from Bergatrollet yet?”

“Their air raid sirens are sounding; I can only assume they’re getting hit too.”

“So, separatists?”

“That doesn’t look like separatist equipment.” Barry added as Jill watched a squat vehicle painted in olive drab break from the tree line. Its treads tore at the frozen ground as it advanced diagonally across the field, thirty-millimeter gun firing at one of the BSAA dragoons. It stopped dead as it erupted into a cloud of smoke, red flames burning out of one end, Jill watching figures evacuate the stricken vehicle as small arms sparked off its armor.

“BSAA Europe dispatch, how can—”

“Agent Valentine, security code Vermillion golf-niner-charlie-five-zero. Send me up the chain now, expeditionary force in Iarna Valea is under attack.” Jill interrupted the BSAA dispatcher. They acknowledge quietly as the line held. Within another moment Jill was on with the Deputy Director for Europe, one she had met with just a few days earlier during Campbell’s briefing.

“We can’t get anything in from the north after the incidents last night, I have our NATO contact arranging for air support from bases south of you within the half hour. Can you hold out until then?” The director informed as Jill watched more enemy armor break from the trees and attempt to break through her unit’s defenses.

“We’re certainly going to try.” Jill growled as she watched a shell crash into one of her Dragoons, pieces of metal trailing smoke behind them as the surviving crew dove for cover.

“Do you have an identity on the attackers?”

“Negative, attackers are flying colors of both sides. We can’t rule out a coalition to drive us out, but it seems unlikely even with the smuggler DSO is hunting playing both sides.” Jill returned as a thought bubbled up in her mind. “It could be rogue elements, the bio-weapons being used by both sides leveraged against them. The smuggler conditioning continued sales on our removal.” Jill posed as Barry shook his head, disgusted at the suggestion but unable to shake the potential truth behind it.

“It is within the realm of possibility. Last briefing from DSO, their agent was close to an ID. This new engagement may be broken by the reveal of the target. You are authorized to redirect any and all forces still operative towards that target.” 

“Understood, have my old direct line forwarded through this device, comms where the first thing to—” Jill was cut off by the warning siren sounding again inside the camp. “Move! Back to the bunker!” Jill shouted as Barry took off down the stairs. Jill followed, running halfway down before leaping the railing, falling and tucking into a roll on the hard ground. She bolted into the concrete structure just as mortars begun to erupt inside the camp, the siren wailing over the ripping explosions throwing up showers of dirt and ice as they struck.

Small granules of soil bounced off Jill and Barry as they ran to the bunker, Jill tucking the phone into one of her pockets to keep from dropping it. As they gained the bunker, Jill looked out at the base erupting again with mortar fire, the smoke forming a sickly, dark haze over each strike. Jill squinted at the bizarre cloud forming in the burning wrecks of tents as the rise and fall of the incoming fire alarm was joined by a jarring, pulsing tone crying out from the camp’s speakers. 

“What one is that?” Barry questioned as Jill shot him a glance.

“Intruder alarm, lets go, they’ll wipe us out if they catch us in the bunkers.” Jill shouted over the sirens. They ran out as the mortars continued to fall in irregular, staccato bursts. A Dragoon rolled buy, its engine revving as it accelerated towards the main gate. Jill kept step with it as she saw three soldiers step out from behind a Hesco barrier. They all wore BSAA fatigues, still visible despite the fog sprinkling itself over the camp. One soldier slung an anti-tank rocket off his shoulder, knelt and fired at the Dragoon. Jill dove as the projectile struck between the turret and the body of the vehicle. A plume of flame roared from the open hatch as the vehicle sputtered and rocked on its suspension. Jill looked up as the trio of soldiers fired at her and the other survivors from the bunker, the small team quickly returning it, dispatching the rogue soldiers in seconds. Barry helped Jill to her feet as she led them along the wall of soil filled barriers and away from the burning Dragoon.

“Do they have our uniforms?” Barry asked, his voice shaky and breathless as Jill looked at the bodies.

“I don’t think so.” Jill had to raise her voice with the alarm and sound of distant canon and rifle fire. The skin of the soldiers was pale and seemed sweaty. Their veins glowed an inhuman grey-green under their skin. Bits of black gunk collected around their eyes, nostrils and mouth. One of them was wearing a gas mask with a shattered lens, the other two had makeshift masks made from scarves over their mouths and noses, now fallen with their lifeless bodies. “They’re infected with something,” Jill gasped as she looked up at Barry, terror and rage in her eyes. “The mortars! The smoke, they’re spores, we have to get to the armory now, everyone mask up!” Jill screamed as she stood and took off towards the armory. 

The small group of survivors from the bunker fell in behind Jill as she bolted through a line of parked Humvees, the last of the Dragoons turning from the motor pool and towards the main gate. Jill ran by it and glanced as the thirty-millimeter canon roared a short burst. The ground near the main gate erupted, parts of infected soldiers flying upwards with clumps of ice and dirt. The dark haze over the camp was growing thicker as Jill reached the armory, throwing open the door as Barry and the rest of the survivors made it in, some coughing as they struggled for breath.

One soldier doubled over and began retching, black bile dripping onto the ground as Jill turned her weapon on him. She inhaled through her nose as she waited, knowing that the man was too far gone for a mask to help. When he looked up, his eyes where blurry and grey, skin splotchy and near white. He growled, grabbed at his combat knife. Jill put him down with a single merciful shot that rang loud in the small space.

“Fuck!” One of his companions spat, looking up at Jill with an expression betraying his fear. He seemed exhausted, his eyes telling Jill he understood what she had just done even though it didn’t change how he felt about it.

“Everyone mask up, grab as many as you can, plenty of our guys out there that are too busy to be thinking of this.” Jill commanded as she slung several masks onto her arm, the plastic clacking together as the rest of the soldiers followed suit, dozens of masks looped over their arms as they struggled to comfortably shoulder their weapons. “Stay sharp, we need to rally and secure the base. Mask up first and start security sweeps.” Jill approached to door, turning to speak to the group. There were nine soldiers and Barry staring back at her, showing the exact same expression Jill was fighting to hide. They were terrified, all of them. They were being overrun by two armies wielding bioweapons with no backup and a city to defend behind them.

“Go!” Jill shouted as she threw open the door. Gunfire greeted her immediately as she threw herself to the dirt, rolling to one side behind a concrete barrier and drawing herself up. A green truck with a machine gun mounted in the back had pulled up not a hundred feet away and was firing on the armory. Jill leapt over the barrier, drawing the trucks attention away from her comrades. She quickly put several rounds into the gunner before turning the muzzle of her weapon on the driver’s seat. She fired three times into the headrest and ceased as the windshield was splattered with red.

Jill turned and motioned for the survivors to follow her. They fell into formation behind her as they made their way to the outer walls, Jill’s first goal to get an idea of the state of the fight outside the base. Along the way they came up to a burning structure, three soldiers desperately trying to dowse the flames with fire extinguishers as two more carried wounded away from the building to a makeshift triage behind a pair of jersey barriers. Jill passed out masks, ordering one of her makeshift squad to stay with then and help keep the area secure. They continued until the greyish-brown perimeter wall broke through the maze of concrete barriers and tents. Jill motioned for her squad to form a defensive perimeter as she climbed the nearest sentry post. 

She looked out onto a field of smoke and fire that was only broken by the drab olive movement of enemy vehicles advancing on them. Red flames rose from BSAA marked vehicles in spread out fighting positions as the flicker of movement around them trained weapons on the base.

“We’re about to be overrun.” Jill muttered to herself as she stared at the horde of metal and infected soldiers advance across the road halfway between the base and the burning tree line. “Barry! We’re about to be overrun! Outer defenses have failed!” Jill snapped back, screaming as she jumped from the sentry post and landed hard on icy gravel. “Take two volunteers to the motor pool and start getting a few vehicles ready, we’re abandoning this position. I’m going to go rally as many survivors as I can. We need to warn the TerraSave camp, they’re the only ones I can trust right now.” Jill commanded as Barry nodded, conscripting two members of the squad who had already handed out all the masks they carried.

“Stay safe, see you soon.” Barry paused, putting his hand on Jill’s shoulder. She held his gaze for a silent moment, nodding before he ran off back towards the motor pool. Jill took her remaining team towards the front gate, picking up a small number of survivors as they ducked into collapsing tents and half burnt buildings. She backtracked to the Dragoon defending the main gate, expended shells littering the ground around it as members of the crew ran back to the vehicle with more ammunition. One of the howitzers had been towed up to the hastily fortified fighting position, the massive canon leveled at the main gate. There were two burning tanks at the smashed opening, armor that had attempted to penetrate the compound only to be met by direct fire. The ammunition inside popped and cracked as the fire cooked it off. 

“Shortwave is still up! Lost contact with Fierhand’s unit ten minutes ago as the first of their armor tried to break through.” The Dragoon’s commander called out from the top hatch as he saw Jill’s team set up and help fortify the Dragoon’s position. Jill tossed him a mask as she cast a quick glance over the rest of the group. All where exhausted, looking warily up at Jill as they carried munitions and empty barriers into position, others hastily filling them with earth. “Agent Burton just put out a call that we’re evacuating, how many heard that?”

“Not sure! We’ve been running a sweep of the camp to see who we could find and—” Jill’s shouting was cut off by the rip of a mortar landing nearby, everyone ducking down instinctively as dirt showered over them.

“We keep them out until he radios he’s ready to go, got it!” Jill shouted back after the ringing in her ears began to subside. The commander gave her a thumbs up as he descended back into the Dragoon’s turret. Jill paced around the soldiers, weapons trained on the main gate as Jill inspected masks, checked each for symptoms of infection. The group ducked in unison as more mortars fell around them, the dark haze of spores swirling thick around them as one of the burning tanks at the gate began to rock. It shifted forward in the mud formed around its tracks, fire melting the frozen ground. Another armored vehicle was behind it, pushing, trying to break into the compound. Jill heard its engine roar as the burning tank gave way to its functioning counterpart. It was immediately struck by a round from the Howitzer, the shell tearing a hole in its side. Smoke belched from the new wreck as infected tried to escape, cut down by machine gun and rifle fire.

“Just a bit longer, just a bit longer and we can get the hell out of here.” Jill thought to herself as she paced the line, her mind already thinking steps ahead. Where was the E-type? How would the fight two infected armies? Were more sections of the Valley already infected? Could TerraSave even be trusted? Jill knew enough people there she could trust, but with the potential smuggler among their ranks, could they already be compromised? Could this attack be coordinated through TerraSave?

Jills racing mind was interrupted by a heavy thump, a crash as earth flew skyward next to the main gate. The enemy had blown a hole in the compound’s wall and squad of soldiers rushed in. The Dragoon’s canon roared to life, the howitzer firing into the smoke cloud in fear of advancing tanks. Bullets whistled and cracked over Jill’s head as she knelt behind a barrier, shouldering her weapon and firing. Two enemy soldiers fell under her aim as more poured through the hole, even as the Dragoon fired relentlessly into it. Jill swapped magazines twice as the enemy made it further in, moving off to their flanks, hiding behind the barriers designed to protect the camp from forward attack. The barrel of her weapon grew hot under her gloves as Jill fought on, watching two enemy soldiers slink by her aim as she reloaded again. Both half-hid behind a cracked concrete wall and prepared anti-tank rockets. Jill ran the bolt to her rifle, shouldered it and fired. She dropped the first soldier but failed to catch the second before a plume of sparks erupted from the launcher. The rocket struck the Dragoon and obliterated it. The open stack of munitions being loaded from behind detonated with it, throwing Jill against the barrier she was using as cover.

Jill groaned as she struggled to get up, her shoulder aching, her wrist screaming at her. She could taste the pungent smell of burning oil and rubber in the air, dust settling on her face. Her mask had been broken when the explosion bashed her against the concrete and her ears only just stopped ringing. Around her, the rest of the BSAA survivors seemed to have faced something similar, some peeling off their useless masks. Some returned fire, some stared at the Dragoon in a daze and others stayed face down in the dirt.

Despair creeped into Jill’s chest as she struggled to sit up against the barrier, her ears still muting the gunfire around her, sounding as if she sat at the bottom of a shallow pond while the battle raged above her. She watched the last of the BSAA soldiers returning fire, refusing to give up the fight as they slowly began to succumb to the cloud of spores. Jill could feel it herself, the air was gritty, it was itching around her eyes, forming a film around her nostrils and it stung on her tongue, in her lungs. She coughed as she felt it itch deeper, the infection fighting from her lungs into her blood, trying to grab the reigns of her nervous system. She heard screaming as it tried to take hold, her hearing was coming back. One of the soldiers in front of her had his gloved hands clapped over his ears.

“Get her out! Get her out! Fuck, fuck! She’s crawling around my head!” He shouted as he tossed back and forth. Jill could feel something tugging at the back of her mind as well, something muted that she fought, that she knew how to fight.

_“This is like the damn drugs, this is like Africa, this is like what they did to me.”_ Jill thought as the horrifying sensation returned, of something taking her mind away from her body, taking control of her. She kept it down, forced it down, finding a new strength to stand as the soldier in front of her drew his sidearm. Jill expected him to point it at her as the infection took hold, but he was resilient, still fighting in every way he could. He died that way, keeping the infection from dominating him, doing what Jill had wished to do every day Wesker used her as his puppet weapon. The BSAA soldier placed the muzzle of his handgun to his temple and pulled the trigger. 

Jill staggered upwards into a low crouch, her rifle had been tossed from her grip and ripped from its strap. She fumbled for her sidearm as she looked out at the advancing infected, some wounded BSAA soldiers standing up and joining their ranks. Jill raised her handgun at the nearest infected and fired, the round catching him in the side of the head. The dozens of other soldiers in front of her turned in unison. They raised their weapons and paused, Jill ducking back down as she expected a hail of gunfire to rip the concrete around her to pieces. It didn’t come, it fell silent for a suspiciously long time until Jill dared to look out. The infected still had their weapons trained on her but where remaining still. Jill stood and stepped out of their line of fire as the army bearing down on her kept silent and still as death.

A scream of pain broke the silence, echoing above the crackling flames and echoed around the base. One of the infected had dropped its weapon, thrown its head back and howled. His skin darkened, black bile and fluid flowing from his mouth, from his eyes. It ran over his uniform and down his arms and chest. It dripped to the ground as his howl turned into a pitched gurgle. He began to thrash, as if something was crawling underneath his skin. He fell to the ground and began to cough, his back contorting, the fabric tearing to reveal blackened skin that ran like a compost pile full of worms. Small clouds of spores puffed up from his back, his head angled downwards as bile flowed from his tearing body. When he straightened up, Jill couldn’t call him human anymore. The infected soldier’s head had been replaced with a black, fibrous maw with glinting black fangs. They were covered in some slick substance, marked with flecks of sickly white and brown as it gnashed. 

Jill had received a mention of this weapon when she had returned to the BSAA, rumors of an experimental weapon using fungal agents to infect and control hosts. It could produce BOWs or be used for stealthier infections like advanced Plagas or the C-virus. What Jill hadn’t volunteered was how much she already knew. She had watched Wesker and his Hive unit meet with members of the so-called Connections. She had been the inspiration, at least what she had been made into. Controlling her with P-30 had been a dry run for utilizing controlled hosts, the E-type was just more efficient than strapping a device to the host’s chest.

“Molded.” Jill muttered under her breath as she killed the mutating creature in front of her. The pause, the sudden mutations, she knew what this meant. The weakness of the E-type was also its strength. The E-type was controlled from a biologically engineered creature meant to appear as a human child. It could control infected from afar and issue them complex commands. If the E-type was eliminated, the infected could break down, could mutate or go rampant. Like a snake with its head cutoff, it could still bite. A rampant outbreak of E-type spores was theorized to me more deadly and difficult to contain than a G-virus outbreak, the one the BSAA had been living in fear of since its inception.

These facts dominated Jills thoughts as the rest of the soldiers began to throw their heads back and howl. Some mutated into the walking molded like the first. Others broke down into smaller, skittering monstrosities while some melted into puddles of black bile and organic goo. 

Jill’s boots where hitting the ground in a full sprint before she knew what she was doing. Her shoulder still ached as she bolted through the camp towards the motor pool. The pops of rifle fire filled her with a fleeting joy; Barry had to still be fighting on. This momentary relief was broken down by a thundering roar. Jill almost slammed into an idling Humvee as she sprinted into the open area where the BSAA vehicles where parked. She swore under her breath, bashing her shoulder against its side view mirror. Jill caught sight of Barry; mask still intact as he fired at a hulking molded. It groaned at him as its bulk shuffled towards him, its clawed hand swiping and tearing through the body of a parked truck. Jill raised her weapon and fired three shots into the head of the beast, its fumbling cries hurting Jill’s injured ears as it recoiled.

“Barry! Front gate is overrun! We have to get out now! TerraSave has to be warned that there’s a rampant infection here and likely one in Bergatrollet. If this gets out this Valley is going the way of Racoon City!” Jill screamed as Barry ran up to her. He put one hand under Jill’s good arm and practically dragged her behind the idling Humvee.

“You aren’t infected?” Barry asked in a low, throaty croak. He placed his gloved hand on the side of Jill’s head, inspecting her for any signs the mutamycene might be grabbing hold of her.

“I can’t be, I don’t think. One of the things they tested on me was—”

“You don’t have to go into it. Not now.” Barry shook his head. He was crying, the dirt covering his mask hiding it, but Jill could tell, looking into the eyes of her old comrade. “You need to go warn TerraSave. They’re the only people left in this Valley that can save anyone. Claire and Moira are there, they’ll help you, you can keep them all safe.” Barry affirmed as he pulled Jill into a tight hug.

“You’re coming with me you over-heroic idiot.”

“I got more than one truck running while you were manning the Alamo up there.” Barry shot back, forcing a short, unwilling laugh from Jill. “I’ve got one more contingency here, I’ll set it off then be right with you, ok?” Barry asked. He didn’t wait for Jill’s response as her opened the door to the Humvee and shoved Jill into the driver’s seat.

“See you soon.” Jill worried as she put the Humvee in gear and watched Barry run off into the camp. Part of her always returned to that moment, even years on and wondered if she had been in shock, had blinders on as she pulled out of the camp’s ruined south gate, or if she had known the entire time and let Barry go. He was returning an old favor he owed Jill, repaying a debt that went back to the mountains of Arklay. Even if she had known, it didn’t stop the tears rolling down Jill’s face as the camp erupted several miles behind her. She had seen a fresh cloud of smoke begin rising when she was a mile out, the smoke as Barry lit a fire inside the ammo dump and near the fuel storage tanks. Within minutes the heat built up enough to detonate the tons of stored explosives, ammunition and fuel in the camp, the fire spreading to anything that would burn, flames spilling out into the camp like a steady stream of water poured into a shallow dish. They swam between the concrete, consuming the tents, the corpses and the molded before striking the camp walls and soaring skyward in a glowing cloud of cleansing wrath. 

Barry had stopped one of two infections single handedly. He had repaid the life debt he had owed Jill since he had betrayed her to Wesker to protect his family. He had repaid it while asking Jill to keep his daughter safe. He had kept Jill alive while she had promised Chris to keep Claire safe. Rebecca lay in the wreck of a BSAA cargo plane in a gorge to the north and now Barry was the last sentinel of the BSAA forward base, now ingulfed in a towering inferno.

Bergatrollet’s sirens where still screaming loud as Jill sped past it, skirting the city via an empty highway towards the TerraSave refugee camp. One of two infections down, it had cost the lives of two of her dearest friends, two survivors. She was all that was left of the BSAA mission with no radio contact, no support, no troops. Jill suddenly remembered the cell phone in her pocket, swearing as she struggled to withdraw it.

The screen was cracked but it glowed to life as Jill unlocked it. Service was out, a small symbol indicating no signal detected. Jill figured the cell towers had been the next target of the enemy after radio went down. There was one message notification glowing in the corner, Jill opened it warily as she kept half an eye on the empty roadway.

“From Agent Leon S. Kennedy, DSO to commander of BSAA forces in Iarna Valea.

“E-type weapon and weaponized spores discovered in TerraSave supply chain being smuggled into Iarna Valea. E-type has been neutralized, any live agents could still present substantial risk of rampant infection. Identity of Martin Cromwell discovered, using the alias Christopher Woodhull, currently listed as logistics officer for TerraSave mission in Iarna Valea. See attached for photo. Consider extremely dangerous, DSO recommends target elimination.”

The message was direct and dispersed the fog that floated in around Jill’s mind. She had a focus as her grief and terror melted, pooling in the wake of a building rage as she slipped the phone into her pocket again. She glanced at the passenger seat of the Humvee. Barry had packed a small survival bag, several loaded magazines and a hardcase laptop. Jill dropped the near spent magazine from her handgun and leaned awkwardly on the wheel as she loaded a fresh mag into her pistol, wrists steering the Humvee towards the vision of the TerraSave refugee camp now just a few miles off down the highway.

Claire felt Moira’s grip on her arm tightening steadily as they watched the growing smoke clouds rising from the east, the distant thud of explosions punctuating the sirens coming from Bergatrollet only a couple miles away from them.

“What the fuck is going on.” Moira croaked, Claire patting the hand that gripped her shakily. She had run out of comforting things to say, just let Moira grip her as they, along with a number of other TerraSave members stood staring off at the black horizon.

“Should we—should we be doing something.” Megan asked quietly on Claire’s right. She was covering the scar on her neck, reflexively. Claire had noticed Megan always did it when she was nervous or scared.

“We’re going to be needed right here when a call for help comes. Whether from the city or from the BSAA.” Claire assured, looking out over the refugee tents, dozens of people crowding around the propane heating and hot water units for warmth while they watched the horizon.

“What do you think is happening? Did the ceasefire break?” Orla spoke up. She was sat at Claire’s feet, knees drawn up to her chest. She always got cold fast but didn’t want to leave everyone else out here to watch. 

“Look! BSAA car right there! Hopefully they can tell us why all radio and cell service are suddenly down.” Moira perked up as she pointed out onto the highway that ran outside the city towards their camp. 

“Humvee.” Claire corrected instinctually, shaking her head. She couldn’t stop Chris’ constant military jargon from spilling out of her, no matter how much she tried to come off as a normal person.

“Car. Four doors and four wheels. It’s a BSAA sedan.” Moira spat back, Claire laughing as she let it go. Her eyes followed the grey vehicle speeding along the highway, only pulled away by a sudden, brilliant flash on the horizon. Claire stood silent and stunned, a scream of terror coming from Moira as her death grip on Claire’s arm felt like she was trying to rip the flesh off it. A massive plume of fire shot skyward from the burning BSAA camp, the shock wave blowing the trees back and kicking up dust around the camp as an earth-shaking thunder rolled over the mountains. Claire snapped back quicker than the rest; shouting, screaming and crying coming from the other groups of spectators. Moira had a hand over her mouth as she watched the fireball climb, tears flowing from her eyes. Claire pulled her into a tight hug, pulling Moira’s gaze away as Claire ran her hand over Moira’s back.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok, you’re safe right here.” Claire tried to sooth, unsure of anything other than Moira wasn’t scared for herself.

“Red! We need to get to the Staff Building, BSAA agent just showed up at the main gate.” Miranda called out as she trudged up to the group staring off at the explosion encompassing the BSAA compound.

“I’m coming with you.” Moira refused to let go of Claire’s arm as she stepped to follow Miranda.

“Moira, it doesn’t mean—”

“I know he might be—I know it’s probably not him. But I need to know for myself.” Moira interrupted sharply before taking a short breath and adjusting her tone, eyes pleading and red.

“Ok, lets go.” Claire allowed as they ran off after Miranda.

The BSAA Humvee was parked with its engine still running near the entrance to the Staff Building, the hood covered with ash and what looked like little silvered craters.

“Bullet holes and ricochets.” Claire identified subconsciously as the trio of her, Moira and Miranda stepped into the lobby of the building. There was a buzz around, administrative staff preparing to receive casualties to the camp as they threat of the ceasefire ending put everyone back into uncomfortable reality: this was a warzone.

Claire perked up as she heard a familiar voice coming from the conference room off the lobby, a stern and commanding timbre she knew well.

“Come on, just set it, stop poking and just do it.” A sharp scream of pain followed by a loud “fuck!” greeting Claire as she walked in to see Jill leaning against the large table in the center of the room, a TerraSave medic setting her dislocated shoulder back into place with a sudden and audible crunch. “I swear it hurts more every time I do it.” Jill hissed as she sat down heavy in one of the chairs. 

She was a wreck. Her face was covered with ash and dirt, her clothes spattered with blood and globs of mud mixed with something black and foul. Blood ran over her forehead from a cut covered by her hair and trickles of red where drying in loose paths out of Jill’s ears. She looked exhausted, kicked around and beaten down, but she maintained a fire that told Claire that whoever had done this hadn’t come close to defeating Jill Valentine. Something burned inside her, something that kept her going when she looked like she should have given out.

Jill looked up and met Claire’s gaze, Claire offering a weak wave, unsure what to do or what to say. Moira spoke first.

“Barry?” Moira questioned, Jill turning a telling look towards her. Moira had her answer before Jill uttered a word. 

“There were two outbreaks. One at our camp, one in Bergatrollet. Barry stopped one while making sure I lived to stop the other. It cost him his life.” Jill reported in a raspy, direct tone. She didn’t want to dance around the subject, she was too tired, too angry for those kinds of games.

“Did you do everything you could.” Moira questioned, sounding angry but Claire could tell the question wasn’t meant as such. Moira was trying to rationalize what had happened.

“I think so. I hope so.” Jill said softly, staring at the floor as she replied. Before Claire could add anything, Woodhull, flanked by Travis Cortier and a member of the Bergatrollet police department stormed in. Jill looked up and an ice came over her expression that sent a bolt of terror down Claire’s spine. She had _never_ seen a look like that on someone, never seen that much rage distilled into a single expression. Claire moved as Woodhull and his entourage stepped into the center of the room, Claire casually pushing Moira as they put Jill between them and Woodhull.

“You said you’re Jill Valentine? Commander of the BSAA mission that just detonated over there?” Woodhull spoke up as Jill followed him with her eyes.

“Christopher Woodhull?” Jill asked in a low growl that left everyone in the room taken aback.

“Yes, I—”

“Senior Logistics Officers, Iarna Valea Aid Mission?” Jill continued, standing to face him.

“Yes, I am, I—” Woodhull was cut off by the sudden crack of five gunshots tearing into his chest. Claire had blinked and Jill’s sidearm was in her hand and firing. Travis reacted slow and it proved fatal as he waited too long to draw his weapon. Jill let him clear the holster before she shot him once in the chest and once in the head before she turned and shot the police officer through the thigh. She ran over to him, kicked his dropped handgun away and slammed the butt of her pistol into his temple.

“If anyone else is foolish enough to go for a weapon, I’ll put your brains through the back of your head before you realize how monumentally stupid that was.” Jill hissed at the staring group of TerraSave personnel who had been following close behind Woodhull. Claire caught a glance of Miranda balling her hands into fists, remaining tense as she eyed the gun not twenty feet away from her, the one Travis had dropped.

“Don’t” Claire mouthed as Miranda glanced at her and scowled. Jill took a deep breath through her nose, hand still gripping her gun as she circled Woodhull’s corpse.

“Your enemies are all around you and everyone is fucking blind.” Jill growled, Claire unsure who the words were meant for. “This guy was the one smuggling weapons in, this fucker is why we were overrun. I have to end this, and I’ll go through anyone who stands in my way.” Jill hissed as she looked up at the gathering crowd at the door.

“Let her go.” Claire broke the tense silence, all eyes turning on her. “I don’t know—I don’t know what happened, but I think it’d be best if you left Jill. If you were right about, him, then we’ll find out after searching his quarters. If not, well we aren’t the ones who’d deal with that.” Claire spoke, voice shaky, Jill’s grip on her weapon still concerned her. Not for herself, but for what Miranda or someone else may try, thinking Jill had gone crazy, or gone rogue. Claire had her doubts, but Jill wouldn’t do something like this unless she had good reason and now was not the time to make her case.

“If.” Jill scoffed, shaking her head as she stormed off, the crowd parting and giving her a wide berth as Jill’s Humvee growled to life, tires kicking mud up over the building as Jill turned and sped away from the camp.

“You should take charge.” Moira broke the uncomfortable hum of nervous murmurs, the medic that had been attending to Jill now knelt over the groaning and bleeding Bergatrollet cop. 

“I second.” Megan spoke up from the doorway, standing with a small, loitering group of other aid workers.

“She’s experienced enough I guess.” Miranda begrudgingly added, her own fear at the uncertainty they found themselves in allowing her personal feelings to yield to the suggestion.

“Ok I—” Claire started as she stared at the bleeding body of Woodhull, Jill’s tirade still fresh in her mind.

“Moira, come with me, we’re searching Woodhull’s quarters. Miranda, reach out to BPD, I want to coordinate our response to the outbreak. Sounds like we’re on our own until the BSAA is able to send reinforcements and we’re going to need to lock this down fast.” Claire commanded, coming into the roll as the aid workers around her seemed relieved to have a task in front of them. Moira followed her as they ran up to the second floor, Claire trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach as the edge of her shoe traced half bloody footprints behind her.

It took about fifteen minutes of Claire ransacking Woodhull’s room to find as small safe hidden under his wardrobe. Moira took another five minutes trying to guess the password to his computer. In the safe, opened with a key Miranda had brought them off Woodhull’s body, had several lists of code phrases, contacts and what looked like logistical sheets not unlike those which he used to track TerraSave supplies. These tracked existing TerraSave shipments marked with dire shorthand such as “T-depw/mortar shell” and “Plga_spleS2v3”. Claire also noticed a number of shipments for various Bergatrollet businesses labeled with the phrase “E.spod_mutamycene”. Moira uncovered more damning evidence, emails, Woodhull had thought were deleted but Moira had pulled out of a recycling bin. They were with multiple sources, two appeared to be in the Iarna Valea military or government, another in the separatist military command. 

“Jill was right.” Moira muttered as she scrolled rapidly through more damning emails. “She was right. Damn” Moira repeated as Claire put her hand on Moira’s shoulder.

“I only regret not shooting that fucker myself.” Claire growled as Moira looked up at her.

“Should we have had Jill leave like that? We might need her and—”

“Things where stupid tense and I didn’t need someone else getting themselves killed not realizing what was going on.” Claire interrupted, purging the creeping doubt from her mind. “Jill didn’t need that on her conscience either. She had just lost—” Claire trailed off as Moira nodded.

“She’ll probably be heading to Bergatrollet, right? We can meet up with her again, let her know we believe her without question and go from there.” Moira spoke, trying to reassure Claire. 

“What if she thinks I didn’t believe her, what if she thinks I banished her when she needed help.” Claire couldn’t keep the thought out of her mind, clung to Moira’s words and hoped she was right.

Jill pulled off the side of the highway after hours of aimless driving, the city of Bergatrollet had disappeared behind her in a rolling landscape of hills and forestland diving into plunging ravines carved by crystal, frothing water flowing from underground springs and fed by ice melting in the afternoon sun.

Jill had been fighting a different kind of battle the entire time since she had been gently kicked out of the TerraSave camp. She was certain she did the right thing, the thing she had always wished she had done in the past. That she had known the villain she was seeking stood in front of her and rather than bother with arrests and confessions, she had ended him. The Valley was safer, Claire was safer with a TerraSave free of insurgents and Jill could now focus on containing the outbreak in the city; whatever that meant. Intrusive thoughts bore down on Jill’s mind, the kind that always tore at her in moments of near-calm, fresh ones from today. Screaming, smoke, gunfire. Jill couldn’t see, her eyes blurry with tears she willed not to fall, her feet went numb, she couldn’t feel the gas pedal as she pulled off the highway. 

Jill fell out of the driver’s side of the Humvee, coughed, spat, sobbed, and then vomited on the cold ground. Her arms where quaking as she shuffled to the back seat, opening the door and grabbing a bottle of water, washing the sour taste out of her mouth. Tears were running down her face, Jill told herself it was from the vomit. She couldn’t shake the vision of the infected soldier, the one who had refused to let the mutamycene take him. He had fought to the last and taken his own life with his service pistol, the one exactly like the one in Jill’s hands. Her mind pulled away from the present and forced her back to a memory.

The laboratory was clean and antiseptic smelling. Wesker stood in front of her, Jill was sat behind an examination table. Excella stared at her from behind observation glass and a Tricell tech stood next to Wesker. A Russian made handgun sat loaded in front of Jill, the red device newly clamped to her chest. Jill was exhausted, enraged, felt sick and terrified as the drug worked its way into her against her will, all of this a violation so deep she couldn’t look it in the face.

“It’s loaded Jill, and I know what you want to do with it.” Wesker’s taunting calm only pushed the claws of Jill’s rage deeper. “I want you to pick it up and try, but you won’t kill me.” Wesker spoke, as if a command, Excella smirking behind the glass, knowing how the drug worked, how this suggestion was as good as a direct order. Jill picked up the gun, not knowing if it was her or the suggestion, but she _wanted_ to. She tried to point it at Wesker, willed her arm to turn the muzzle on him but she wound up awkwardly aiming the gun at the ceiling. She scowled the gun recoiling as she squeezed the trigger and shot out one of the bright white lights in the room. It was in fact loaded.

Wesker let out a sickening chuckle as Jill strained, muscles aching as she tensed trying to turn the weapon on her tormenter. If she could, she’d never escape, never get out alive, but the world would be safer, it would be worth it. Jill’s straining did nothing as she relented, hand falling but keeping grip of the gun.

“Good, we’ll be ready to send you on your first errands within the month.” Wesker smirked, satisfied with the degree of control he had over her. He turned and the thought of being an unwilling tool, a weapon of Wesker’s dropped in Jill’s gut. It was a heavy and crushing weight and from that, Jill came up with an idea. An act of absolute resistance, of rebellion they couldn’t take from her. She fought a different kind of resistance as she raised the gun to her head, a nightmare she had lived before. She was becoming what she sought to destroy.

“I’ll die before I let that happen.” Jill muttered to herself, only now back lent up against the Humvee in the cold sunlight of Iarna Valea. Her weapon was in her hand, muzzle dangerously close to being pointed at her. Jill’s finger was curled around the black trigger and the safety was off.

_“They’re all dead because of you, you come back and now Barry and Rebecca and dozens of others are dead. What if you never were truly free of Wesker? What if this is all part of his design and you’re too deep to even realize it?”_ The sickening questions ran through Jill’s head. She heard a pleading scream as she hurled the gun away from her. It kept coming, keening, painful as she fell to her knees, gripping the sides of her head as flashes of fire and death and terror poured into her mind. It tormented her, forcing her to relive every mistake, every death, every piece of blame. It all culminated with the look Claire had given her after she had shot Woodhull.

_“She saw you for what you are,”_ the voice in Jill’s head taunted her again, _“one of the monsters.”_

Jill didn’t know how long she had spent slumped up against the Humvee, shaking, her face slick with tears, her throat horse and sore. She stood shakily, sniffling as she looked up, the sun floating back down towards the horizon. It was still bright out but well after noon. Jill shuddered, gripping her shoulders as she trudged away from her vehicle, searching for the discarded handgun. It felt so much heavier than it used to as she lifted it from the icy dirt and slid it into her holster. She was hungry, still shaking and felt drained as she settled into the driver’s seat and turned the Humvee on.

“You have to stop this, you have to stop this because there is no one else and too many have died for you to fail.” Jill muttered to herself, trying to temper her resolve. Her mind clung to something Barry had said not more than a day ago, a twinge of hope condensing around that.

“There’s an old Soviet missile silo north east of here, on one of the most rugged sections of the mountains.” Barry’s voice gruffed in Jill’s memory. “… it’s possible some derelict equipment could be stored there, scavenged from the bunker ruins. Local Soviet Commanders often hid assets from their superiors, especially near the fall. There’s a mine on what’s left of the base, it’s entirely possible there was some material stored in the tunnels…”

“That’s it.” Jill muttered to herself, remembering finding the base on the map shortly after the downing of Rebecca’s plane. She got her bearings after driving another mile down the highway, road signs giving her a marker. From there she steered off onto country roads and followed the crumbling asphalt out to the abandoned Soviet base to rally and make the stand she owed to so many of the dead and all of the living.


	6. Office Catacombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire Redfield attempts to rally her TerraSave mission to keep up with the demanding task of housing and caring for the refugees of the increasingly dangerous region while Jill makes an incredible find that forces her to consider all options when dealing with the catastrophic outbreak she faces alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So wow, another big chapter, I think it might be my biggest yet XD sorry for the delay in posting! This one was really fun writing with Jill's isolation and search of the old abandoned Soviet base; did someone say Metro 2033 vibes?
> 
> Here we end with some serious things starting, questions unanswered, liked, what does Jill know about the sabotage? How is Jill going to stop the outbreak and protect Claire like she promised? What is Orla Foley's Irish Mac and Cheese recipe?
> 
> "Lost It All" By Jill Andrews. Just a vibe, poor Jill
> 
> "Until the Levee" By Joy Williams. Another lonely Jill vibe, sensing a theme?

_“Silence creates its own violence.”  
-Jeff Vandermeer _

Claire winced as she hit a pothole hard, the small Renault SUV she had taken from camp bouncing roughly as Moira swore under her breath. They were running a little behind schedule, about fifteen minutes from now they were due to meet with Edgars Potochnik, the mayor of Bergatrollet.

“Careful Red, I don’t think we’re getting a lot of spare tires in after that light show up north.” Miranda called from the back seat, groaning against her belt as it caught her uncomfortably with the lurch of the car. Claire shook her head and let it go, Miranda had stepped up since things had gone to shit the day before. Claire had appointed Miranda to serve as her security chief, Robert Jeffreys now left in charge of her aide team and Megan left in charge of Claire’s. Moira was acting as Claire’s second and Quintin was riding in the back next to Miranda. He had insisted on coming, saying he’d watch the car since the city was likely going to be rougher around the edges after the attack. Claire had capitulated; like most people suddenly thrust under her command, he seemed scared and wanted to feel like he was being part of the solution.

“What fresh hell.” Moira muttered under her breath as they pulled up to the plain, capitol building that housed the city government of Bergatrollet. The Iarna Valea government had moved its operations to a UN hosted site in Czechia shortly before the BSAA had intervened, fearing increased attacks on Bergatrollet itself as the seat of government. This had let the largest population center in the Valley stand as a sort of neutral ground until rocket fire had begun landing early yesterday morning. Around the capitol steps now was a small crowd of persons milling about news vans, some dressed up and others holding cameras.

“Press doesn’t stop just cause comms are down I guess.” Claire shrugged as she pulled up to the curb and put the car in park.

“Let’s be quick, straight up to the door.” Miranda added as they got out and broke into a speedy stride across the sidewalk as a handful of local journalists ran up to them. The police who responded to the reported wounding of their officer had been briefed by Claire. She had informed them about the mole and the change of command, she had left out the details of Jill’s appearance. Claire had met with them privately, stating that a surviving member of the BSAA mission had come with intelligence of a weapons dealer in their midst, that there had been an altercation. Claire had insinuated that Woodhull, or Cromwell to use his actual name, had started the incident and deceived Travis and the officer who was with him. Moira had stared at her while she spun the lie, then backed her up after a tense silence.

“What the fuck Claire, wanna tell me why we’re lying to our only ally in the middle of a crisis?” Moira had scolded in private after the police left, a few aid members moving the bodies from downstairs and mopping up the blood.

“I don’t know what Jill is doing, but she needs time. She’s got everyone’s best interest at heart; I have to believe that. The first play of our enemies will be to drive wedges between allies, I’m just countering that before it can happen.” Claire had hoped, she was all in now and counting on the stories Chris had told her about Jill proving true.

“Claire Redfield? Redfield! Ms. Redfield!” Several of the reporters called out as Moira, Quintin and Miranda stepped forward to shield Claire from the onslaught of questions.

“How does TerraSave plan on addressing the outbreak in the eastern quarter of the city? Does TerraSave have a plan to defend itself from an attack like that against the BSAA? How do you respond to allegations of corruption within your ranks and that the bioweapons that have escalated this crisis have been coming in masked as aid?” Questions were shouted in accented English as Claire quickly climbed the stairs.

“How do you respond to the Bishop of Bergatrollet’s accusation that TerraSave entities have acted in collusion with outside forces to make Iarna Valea dependent on foreign aid?” Another voice called out as Claire paused, “How do you respond to reports that the BSAA commander is responsible and currently on the run?”

“TerraSave will be doing everything it can to assist the city of Bergatrollet and the BPD when it comes to managing refugees and medical emergencies. We are setting up new shelters within our camp and reaching out to other cities and TerraSave missions throughout the Valley. Communications are slow due to the loss of all but localized radio.” Claire spoke up, mustering as much of her brother’s confident voice as she could in the face of an agitated press. “As for the BSAA, it is TerraSave’s assessment that at the BSAA was targeted by well-equipped arms smugglers who had contacts in both sides of this conflict. We are confident that any remaining forces are attempting to regroup in the face of this new threat. I have full confidence in the BSAA and their commander.” Claire finished, going red in the face as she practically ran up the steps with her small entourage.

“Well done Red, but how much do we actually know?” Miranda laughed softly as she shut the door behind them.

“Darius and Lauren went out scouting last night, to the BSAA camp.” Quintin spoke up, Miranda shooting a glance at him and then back at Claire. “They said the entire place was nothing but bodies and burned-out vehicles and—” Quintin paused abruptly as Claire held her hand out in a “tone it the fuck down” motion. Quintin’s eyes darted to Moira quickly before resuming, “The outbreak was in fact contained. The thing they found was that vehicles in the ruin were marked BSAA, separatist and government. As for the weapon they aren’t sure.”

“Plagas by the sounds of things, maybe even C-virus if the bio pirate is trying to ramp up his line of credit.” Moira spoke up as Miranda was slowly building in frustration.

“I thought when you asked me to be head of security you were gonna trust me with shit like this.” Miranda spat as Claire shook her head and began walking off into the building, they were due for their meeting in an upstairs conference room, Moira had the number.

“I honestly didn’t trust anyone with shit like that.” Claire shrugged off as Miranda kept pace with her.

“You trusted Epperson and Branagh.”

“Branagh and I have a deep understanding, goes back to Racoon City. Epperson is military, figured she’d take orders better than most of you and be capable should shit hit the fan.” Claire justified as Miranda furrowed her brow.

“Then why does Quintin know?”

“We bunk with Darius.” Quintin spoke up before Claire could reply. “You were busy with your new position all night and, well, he told Robert just before leaving and Robert told the team.”

Both Claire and Miranda paused at the head of the stairs, Quintin looking at his feet as both women stared angrily at him.

“Fucking Robert.” Miranda and Claire growled in unison as Moira smirked, not pausing her climb with the rest. Claire quickly resumed moving up the stairs, pinching the bridge of her nose as she hissed a breath through her teeth.

“I’m gonna need to slap that down as soon as we get back. I can’t be dealing with his regular bull shit right now, really not right now.” Claire griped as they rounded a landing and moved up to a grand hallway with tall, thin windows and a byzantine ceiling.

“I need you to trust me with things like this if we’re all going to get out of this alive, Red.” Miranda grumbled softly as their footsteps echoed through the massive hallway.

“You’re standing next to me while we meet our only allies at the moment. I think that says more than anything I could put into words.” Claire shot back as Miranda remained silent. She didn’t know if she entirely believed it herself, or that she even trusted Miranda beyond her fear of the unknown and deference to Claire’s experience. She knew that keeping Miranda close, under her eye was a good idea no matter what.

Claire pushed the door to the conference room open after glancing at Moira for a confirming nod. Around the head of the table where several men in suits, a few in Bergatrollet Police uniforms ended their quiet conversations to greet the small TerraSave delegation.

“Good to see you got here safe, please sit.” A sharply groomed silver haired man standing at the center of the group offered in a deeply Slavic accent. Claire took his offer and sat down at the opposite end of the table, Moira on her right and Miranda on her left next to Quintin. “I wanted to go over the incident that led to you taking command of the mission from Mr. Woodhull.” Potochnik began as he sat down, his own staff standing behind him.

“Like I had told your officers who came to our camp yesterday morning.” Claire started, already tired of repeating the refrain. “Agent Jill Valentine came to us badly injured to warn us about the outbreaks. She encountered Woodhull and accused him of being an agent for the bioweapons smuggler who had been supplying unlawful entities in both parties.”

“Or elements of the rebellion attempting to pass off as members of the state armed forces and—”

“Mr. Potochnik, please.” Claire raised her hand to silence him. In the day since the outbreak, the city officials had been firm in their resistance to any implication of government forces in the attack on the BSAA. It had got to the point where Claire was getting angry. “Woodhull, revealed to be a man by the name of Martin Cromwell, attacked Jill and used one of your officers as a shield. Now, she is an agent of the Special Operations Branch of the BSAA and it took very little for her kill him, one of my security who had been fooled into protecting Cromwell and wounding your officer. Jill was able to realize this by the time it got to your man and neutralized him without killing him. I think something should be said about her incredible restraint given the circumstances.” Claire retorted quickly and firmly, keeping the lines of her face sharp. Moira leaned in close and whispered as Claire took a breath.

“You keep calling her Jill, sounds way too personal. Stick to Agent Valentine.” Moira’s whisper was barely audible as Claire felt a stab of fear and shame spread through her chest. She took a deep breath and continued.

“Now, I’m not interested in relitigating that incident. After Agent Valentine left, presumably to rally what forces she had left, we conducted a cursory investigation of Woodhull, or Cromwell’s belongings and found damning evidence that supported the BSAA’s accusations. We are, therefore, operating under the assumption that Woodhull, aka Cromwell used a biological weapon such as B series Plagas or the C-Virus to take control of factions of both militaries and turn them on the BSAA.” Claire finished with a huff, reclining slightly in her chair, Miranda smirking approvingly and turning her gaze to the mayor of Bergatrollet.

“Understood, Ms. Redfield.” Potochnik bowed his head, pensive. He looked up as one of his aids leaned in close to his ear and whispered something inaudible. “I need to clarify something for you since we seem to be on the same page now. The forces that attacked the BSAA we believe were the entirety of both faction’s military; at least what was out in the field and not garrisoned within the city. As far as our efforts of communicating with government forces, we have found their base abandoned and no patrols of any kind or answers on shortwave. Same for our attempts to contact the rebels through the channels set up in the ceasefire.”

“Well, that at least grants us some answers.” Claire blew out a breath as she adjusted in her seat. “How about the damage from the rocket attack, and how we can help.” 

“The dead quarter is contained but barely. What was left has collapsed completely, the barricade holding against the infected and the weapons that have either been planted there or mutated from the infected. Most of the fires are out but some people have been driven from their homes in the dead quarter and even more now are homeless or without heat. With winter rapidly descending on us, that’s a death sentence even within the city.” The mayor informed as Claire nodded.

“I’ve had my teams making new beds and temporary dwellings since yesterday, anticipating this. Last thing you want during an outbreak is overcrowding. We can take five hundred refugees starting today and with further help from the police department we could take another five hundred to a thousand within the next seven days.” Claire tapped her fingers against the conference table as the mayor and chief of police smiled.

“That is good to hear, we deeply appreciate the help that you are providing.” 

“I want to work on another plan with your police department, incase there should be an attack on the TerraSave main camp.” Claire added as the smiles were swept from the Bergatrollet officials’ faces. “I need to be able to get my entire group of refugees into the safety of the city should we be targeted by direct attack. I know that’s not ideal, but my primary mission is the welfare of the people entrusted into my care.” Claire pressed.

“Of course, of course. That’s only reasonable.”

“Good, my head of security will stay and iron out those details with you police chief. The rest of us are going to go inspect the barricades and potential shelter locations.” Claire finished as she stood, looking down at Miranda. “We’ll be back and half an hour. That work for you?”

“Sure thing, it should be a simple enough thing to coordinate.” Miranda shrugged agreeably as she eyed the police chief in his deep blue uniform and bronze decoration.

“Good. Then if that’s all we won’t take up any more of you time.” Claire added looking up to the mayor. Potochnik offered a brief nod and Claire, Moira and Quintin all quickly stepped back into the hall.

The edges of Jill’s jacket whipped around her as she struggled to zip it up, the mountain gale whistling around the body of the Humvee as she stepped out onto a cracked roadway leading up to a rusted chain link fence. Ice hung from the barbed wire topping it, thin and sporadic whisps of snow moving sideways across the sky as the wind floated them on. Jill inhaled sharply, the altitude making her feel short of breath as she clutched her shoulders and approached the gate. Beyond the abandoned sentry post Jill could see a wide road leading to the summit.

The peak flattened out into a large caldera lake, massive pipes looming on the far side like a mythic serpent slinking from the water. Along the rim of the lake were several, decrepit sheet steel and wood structures from an abandoned uranium minding operation. Their rickety supports dug into the mountain, weary pitons holding the buildings up as large cables reached across a deep, cloud covered chasm. The mountains rose even taller around this peak and had a speckling of more mining buildings and tunnel entrances. All these were connected by a crisscross of cables looking like the web of a massive, mechanical spider. The spider’s web had insects caught in it, cable cars hanging above the gorge, collapsed sections forming knots as they fell into eachother, desperately clinging to the rotting mine to keep from falling into the bottomless ravine.

Jill shivered suddenly, one not from the cold, as she took the padlock hanging from the gate’s chain in her hand. She examined it for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a multitool pick she had been carrying for years; it always gave her comfort when not as expressly useful as it was now. She selected one of the delicate pieces of steel and slid it inside the lock, using the end of a slender screwdriver she had found in the Humvee to hold the lock. Jill bit the corner of her lip and closed her eyes, feeling around for the tumblers, her fingers seeing for her. She gently pushed each into place, capitulating the lock to her will, curling her fingers around the screw driver’s handle and giving the decades old lock a hard twist. It released and fell to the cracked pavement with a rattle as the chain was pulled through the fence by its own weight.

“Alright.” Jill muttered with a smirk over the small victory. She slid the gate back, wide enough to fit through before returning to the Humvee. She drove through as snow began to turn the ground a speckled white among its natural green and brown. Jill pulled up between a pair of two story, off-white buildings she could only assume were once barracks. She stepped out and glanced at the rows of windows, another chill running up her spine. The wind of the worsening weather spoke to her through the broken windows that stared down at her, whistling as the snow eddied around the corners of the buildings.

Jill quickly crossed the main road towards a large concrete building, pushing the half-rotted door open and slipping inside. Her breath clouded in front of her as she gripped her handgun in its holster. She clicked on small flashlight from a pouch on her belt as the quite of the building hung heavy against the wailing gusts outside. The beam of light danced over a dirty floor, littered with peeled paint and fallen, crumbling plaster and dry wall. Jill raised her pistol in an instant as she caught a glint of light, sighing deeply as she saw her reflection in the lens of a security camera. She held her aim for a moment, lowering her weapon after noticed the operating light on the side was dark. Above what Jill could only assume was the reception of the building’s lobby hung a tan sign with cracked and fading blue letters reading; “Ракетная Шахта А-З-5”.

“In the right place then.” Jill spoke softly to herself, even the whisper feeling loud in the abandoned space. She moved past the counter, veneer peeling to reveal cheap, pulp wood underneath. She stepped through a collapsed wall, pipes still standing with a harness of wires coiled around steel slats that had been holding up the pile of debris on the floor. It led to the landing of a staircase, Jill shuffling through the layer of debris as she made her way down to the basement level. It came out to a long hallway, what Jill assumed was. Half the walls were falling apart, opening up dozens of rooms to the main hall. The light of Jill’s flashlight illuminated the steady fog of dust that was pushed away by her breath and her movement, flickering around the light and making it seem as if Jill’s eyes couldn’t focus completely. The hallway became clearer after an intersection. Jill strode down three short steps into a section of concrete walls and tiled floors. There was far less debris as the walls still stood, the cracked tile pattern checkering beyond the reach of Jill’s light.

The air was stale and frigid, yet had a body behind it, a host of muted smells mixed into the heavy musk of the building. Old paint, shriveling papers, peeling desks, and yellowing plastics called out olfactory notes from behind rusted, locked doors. Beneath it all was something deep, heavy and warning, like the sense one might have stepping around the lower decks of a ship over the open ocean. Something beyond what Jill saw was vast and only hinted at its presence in the soft groans of the settling, old building. 

A plastic placard was screwed into one of the concrete blocks, cracked and hung askew on the steel fastener. Jill twisted it into place, the Cyrillic lettering spelling out “Резиденция командующегo”: commander’s residence. 

“Sounds promising.” Jill tried the door handle, the steel security doors holding firm but the key card reading lock rattled a bit against Jill’s tug. Jill braced her shoulder against the door, gripped the handle in a vice and tensed her arm. With a grunt and single hard motion, Jill snapped the flimsy lock. The handle fell on the other side of the door with a ringing clatter that echoed through the halls of the Soviet carcass. Jill slid the door open with a groan from the steel and her own effort, the heavy door sagging on its hinges as Jill shimmied through the narrow opening. The hall she stepped into was immaculate compared to the one she had just left, only a thin layer of dust and dated architecture telling the age of the edifice. To her further surprise the low yellow glow of emergency lights flickered to life along the curling vinyl base boards. They glowed dimly but showed Jill a grey, speckled tile hall that extended about a hundred yards to a dead end with two sets of doors on each side of the empty corridor. In front of Jill, the hall widened, semi circular alcoves set into the wall to make room for a tiny reception desk. A black desk phone sat next to a stack of document trays labeled in Russian. Jill squinted at it, lifting the plastic receiver in her hand. The chord still held elasticity and it resembled something she had at her STARS desk rather than a relic in an old Soviet Facility. 

“Must have been used by the Russians for a bit before they mothballed the place.” Jill shrugged, setting the phone down on the desk as she continued her inspection. There was no chair, and the drawers were either gone or empty as Jill circled, finding a small black switch under the desk.

“Door buzzer? Maybe a panic button.” Jill thought as she stood up and moved down the hall, boots echoing loudly as her breath continued to float out a fog in front of her. She stopped at the first door on the left, forced it open with a shove from her shoulder and stepped inside. She found a long office set up with dozens of cramped, wooden desks. Jill shivered as a wave of cold dingy air struck her, a paper floating off the nearest desk and silently landing on the ground. It had a formal stamp typed message labeled in black ink “Антарктическая Партнерская Программа”. 

“Damn, still a little rusty.” Jill muttered to herself, the sound of her voice sudden and grounding in the dark basement offices. The paper had something to do with an unspecified program, or maybe it was specified and none of the other words were sticking out to Jill. She walked around the filthy desks slowly, turning her gaze to each one, beam of her flashlight casting its glow onto workstations that had been abandoned for years. She stopped when she caught a glint in the corner of her eye and turned to see a white monitor sitting on top of a white computer. She smirked, looking down at the dust covered Russian keyboard and froze. A little, barely visible green light glowed from a weak bulb on the computer.

“This, has to be a couple decades old but, it can’t be.” Jill muttered, tapping the power button with a satisfying click. The computer’s fans spun up loudly in the silent tomb of an office. Dust puffed from the vents in the side as the monitor formed a hazy glow before winking to life. Jill gasped audibly, stepping back and grabbing her holstered gun in anger and shock. A white and red octagon shown over the screen as Cyrillic text floated over the screen underneath it. “Корпорация ‘Амбрелла’”: The Umbrella Corporation.

“You fuckers are always here when shit’s hitting the fan, aren’t you?” Jill hissed angrily as the wake-up sequence faded into a blank login screen, directions in Russian Jill couldn’t read. In a moment of boiling rage, Jill pulled her weapon from its holster and fired directly into the screen. The sound was thunderously loud, echoing in Jill’s ears and ricocheting down the hallway. It seemed to travel through the unfathomable bowels of the dead building, taking its time to find her again and when the sound came back to her ear it had a new voice. With it came the depth of the structure, the gunshot now heavy and cavernous, its distorted sound warning of what was deeper down, listening and waiting for Jill to uncover.

The next room over was a kitchenette mashed with a sitting area. It had an old TV, a fridge that had died years ago and reeked of mildew and slowly leaking freon. Jill didn’t dare open it. The tap didn’t run, pipes likely long frozen. Jill moved on, pushed to urgency by a growing feeling of dread. She started looking over her shoulder every few minutes, the soft brush of her long hair making her flinch as she spun to look at an empty, dark hallway.

“Keep it together Valentine. Just an old, dark as hell building.” Jill spoke, puffs of breath gathering in front of her as she did. It felt silly but talking to herself helped in the dark, in the quiet of artificial night. The third room was a grand office, set up for the base’s commanding officer. Jill looked up at the low ceiling and smirked.

“Missile silo, commander’s office is fortified, and radiation shielded. Preemptive attack protections.” Jill mused as she paced around the corners of the office, glancing back at the door she had left cracked open. Dust continued to float in the light beam of her, a pair of the yellowed running lights visible through the doorway, watching her like eyes in the night. 

“You look new.” Jill commented as she approached another desktop like the one in the other room. Late nineties, and with the Umbrella logo, could have been as late as the early thousands. The enduring fact was that someone had bothered to set up shop here well after the Soviets had abandoned the base and the Russian Federation locked the gate. Jill tried the power button with no luck and sighed.

“So, we have power from somewhere, but not to this station.” Jill groaned as she cast her flashlight over several ornate bookshelves. The deep red wood held dozens of technical tomes covered with gold and black Russian lettering and edition numbers. Her inspection paused as the flashlight caught a soft golden glow. In a small shadow box was a golden item, somewhat shaped like a blade, or the head of an ornate axe. Its tarnished surface was gold, or refined brass and it had an intricate carving around the connection of the blade to the head of the axe.

“These guys and their fucking collectables.” Jill scoffed, stepping back into the glowing hall, boots thudding as she picked up pace. She told herself she needed to refocus on her goal, find something to get an edge of the BOWs, communication equipment, something to stop the outbreak slowly taking over Bergatrollet and threatening every surviving member of the Valley. In truth the building was starting to get to her, the still cold, the floating shadows in her periphery. The deep, nebulous echoes that took much longer to return and the suffocating loneliness that was eating away at her, that would follow her out of the building like a miasma; it was building into a rock of terror sitting in Jill’s gut.

The final room was much of what Jill had expected. An overly lavish bedroom in the Soviet style with portraits of Lenin, Stalin and a photo of Gorbachev hung in golden frames with a large bookcase framed by twin wardrobes; in one corner of the room was a vanity, a small door that led to a private bathroom that reeked of water damage and had a pool of ice in the sink. The bed was made with an extra sheet of dust over it and the wood chest at the end was open, completely cleaned out with its own layer of dust. Jill moved on to the wardrobes, smirking as she found a series of old Soviet military uniforms still pressed and ready for wear. Jill searched quickly, pausing at a dark, leather coat. It had a broad lapel, belt made of the same fabric around the waist and a warm, soft liner on the inside. The black leather hung low, Jill held it against herself, the hem brushing her shins. The interior of the coat had several deep pockets and a sewn in holster with magazine pouches. 

“Probably better for this weather than anything we brought.” Jill chortled as she slid the old garment over her broad shoulders. It fit reasonably well, still giving her arms a range of movement as the chill of the dank cavern air abated with the liner holding Jill’s heat closer to her body. She closed the wardrobe, satisfied with her find and moved to the bookshelf, feeling the hem of the heavy coattails sway behind her. 

The bookshelf seemed simple enough, personal, and academic reading for the former occupant until Jill noticed a pattern emerge. On one shelf, just below eye level, three books repeated in the same order and in different languages. 

“Metamorphosis, Into The Heart of Darkness, The Picture of Dorian Grey.” Jill read the titles out in their English triplet, the following looking to be in Italian. She found the Cyrillic tomes, simple leather bindings with black, stamped lettering. Jill’s curiosity tugged at her and she pulled the Russian version of Metamorphosis off its shelf. It was heavy, carried an aged leather smell and the binding felt taught and brittle in the cold. Jill opened it a smirked. About ten pages in, the words disappeared, a large hole cut through the book with a loaded magazine. Jill closed it and shown her light over the shelf, catching a wink of something metallic behind the other books. She reached back to feel a piece of metal bolted to the back of the bookcase. She pulled off Into the Heart of Darkness and The Picture of Dorian Grey, setting them down on the floor. 

Her light illuminated a steel crest with a socket for a key at the point at the bottom. It was a steely-blue and featured a Raptor with its wings unfurled a simple crossed English shield in front of it. Its talons appeared to be clutching something and there was a relief in the metal and two holes meant to accept some kind of missing piece. Jill reached down and rifled through the books she had pulled off the shelf.

Into the Heart of Darkness held a squat, Russian pistol to match the magazine hidden in Metamorphosis. The final book held a small golden key with a distinctive, white and red octagon on the end. Its steel finish matched that of the crest and the teeth of the key were sized to fit into the slot at the base of the bookcase ornament. It remained sealed though, a small metal cover slid into place behind the keyhole.

“Been here way too many times before.” Jill smirked to herself. She pocketed the key and slid the magazine into the Russian pistol.

“Can’t hurt.” Jill muttered, sliding the gun into her coat’s holster, the fine leather fitting it perfectly as Jill adjusted her lapel. She left the bedroom and crossed the empty, dim hallway again, stepping into the empty office as her footsteps continued to echo through the basement corridors behind her. She paused suddenly, noticing a trapse of footprints in the dust. She exhaled sharply, half sigh as she realized the pattern was her own, shaking of the sensation of dread as the flood of adrenaline flowed through system like a violent splash on an otherwise placid lake.

Jill walked around behind the ornate desk and grabbed the shadow box off the rows of bookshelves, the bronze halberd glinting at her as her flashlight found it. She set it on the desk, drew her pistol and slammed the butt into the glass. The thin pane shattered, the crinkling clatter showering its sharp sound into the empty hall as Jill picked through the pieces and pulled out the axe head. It was dense, smooth and freezing like everything else in the office catacombs. She returned to the bedroom, boots gliding over the dusty carpet, clouds of dust swirling around her coattails in a filthy wake. The axe head slid perfectly in place with a creak of metal and a satisfying clunk. Something groaned behind the crest and the keyhole opened. Jill smirked, inserting the key from The Picture of Dorian Grey. She turned it, the tumblers heavy, and the lock clicked. Jill tried to push the crest, then pull but the metal ornament refused to budge.

Jill folded her arms across her chest, staring at the mechanism while considering her next move. She flinched hard, swiftly drawing her pistol and spinning on the door as a loud clatter and groan came from the hall. Metal and stone bellowed and whined as they dragged, and machinery spun and roared to life. Jill held her flashlight at an angle, balancing her weapon hand over it. She came to the door and checked the sided of the frame, moving in a semi-circle to see as much as she could before stepping into the open. Jill cast her light towards the lone desk and the ajar security door and saw nothing but dust floating in the beam of light. A low orange glow added its warmth to the dim, yellow running lights as Jill turned to the end of the hall. What had formed the dead end had now given way to the slat steel slide of an elevator, an orange light glowing at the top of the car. It offered little illumination, but enough for Jill to click off her flashlight as she approached. She slid the old metal gate open, the rivetted bars folding in on themselves as Jill stepped in. The orange light gave enough illumination for Jill to make out five buttons labeled, in descending order: Office, Laboratory, Residence, Storage A, Storage B and Reactor. There was a red X painted over Storage B that sent a shiver down Jill’s spine.

“Well,” Jill sighed, closing her hands into fists before releasing them. “It has power, lets see where this goes.” 

Jill slid the gate closed, latched it and pressed the button for Laboratory. There was an electric hum as the elevator lurched suddenly and then began to descend. Jill watched the floor raise up in her vision, the dim running lights barely lighting the corridor. As Jill began to lose sight of the deep office catacombs, a shadow shifted by the reception desk, just barely beyond what she could make out. It could have easily been a trick of her overstressed mind, but Jill couldn’t shake the feeling that she watched a silhouette stand upright, shoulders hunched at an angle that was barely human.

The elevator stopped with a sudden jolt as Jill stepped onto the floor that had been labeled Laboratory. Bright lights recessed into the ceiling sprung to life with loud snaps, rhythmically down the corridor. Jill shielded her eyes as they revealed neat concrete walls with steel brackets every hundred feet. The thing that stood out to her, that should have stood out to her sooner, were the signs. Along the corridor where a number of grey doors, some with thin windows cut into them. Each was labeled: Biopsy Lab, Hematology Lab, Parasitology Lab, Ultra Cold Storage, Gestation. They were all in English, all neat lettering in font Jill had seen half a dozen times before in other Umbrella facilities. Jill stopped at one door around the corridor and past another room labeled “Biomass and Proteins Fabrication”. Jill’s choice to further her investigation was a small room marked as the “Research Forum”. Inside the room where several chairs set at clean, white desks. They all faced a podium down a shallow flight of steps, not unlike a college lecture hall. At the back of the room were several, wall-length screens holding an idle Umbrella logo over a lit, black background. All the rest of the light in the room came from blue running lights around the steps and desks like a macabre movie theater. Jill approached the podium, looking to her sides before down at a computer built into the flat surface, a keyboard and mouse tucked under on a sliding tray.

“Late nineties, maybe early thousands. Someone has definitely been working past the fall of the USSR.” Jill muttered to fill the emptiness of the room. She tapped the mouse and the screen flickered to life behind her, burning brightly and illuminating the forum. An animation of the Umbrella logo blended with the crest Jill had seen up in the office catacombs flew onto the screen.

“Welcome to the Umbrella Caucus Operations Branch and Virology Experimentation facility or COVE. The function of this facility is to maintain a presence for the Umbrella Corporation in Eastern Europe while cooperating with our sister stations in Antarctica and Siberia in the development of new derivative biotech from the Progenitor and Tyrant proprietary viruses. This facility is clandestine and completely self-sufficient; kept under the exclusive purview of Dr. Alexander Ashford.” A crisp, female voice came through the speakers as stock footage and images of Umbrella workspaces, laboratories and researchers flashed on the screen. Jill spat on the floor as an image of Oswell Spencer flashed over the screen. 

The images continued to flash as Jill scanned a collection of abandoned papers on the desks out in the silent audience. The voice stopped and the room’s bright illumination shot to a deep red. Jill turned to see a large ticker of text appear on the screen in stencil, red letters.

“Siberia Facility Compromised. Current Task: Secure, Store, Abandon.” The text flashed three times before shrinking to the top of the screen. A three-dimensional map of a five-story underground bunker flew onto the screen and began rotating slowly, showing a blue dot to identify the forum. The corner of the screen scrolled out dozens of lines of data, inventory lists, schedules, staff rosters. One header read “Current Project: Plaga Beta Licker Coding. Status: Completed” another mentioned high valued bioweapons stored in the facility, Jill shuddered at the mention of a “Regulated Master Plaga”. She had heard about the efforts to replicate the control of Las Plagas that the Illuminados leader Saddler had shown. She didn’t know how close they may have got though.

Jill turned her attention back to the map, walking up to the screen and tracing the lines outlining a residence level for the researchers below her, a level for storage in the form of food, lab equipment and weaponry, another layer exclusively for biotech and BOW’s and a sprawling reactor level with a massive warning label over it reading “Low Power: Start-Up Sequence Required”.

“Doubt Cromwell knew anything about this place. Fuck, Wesker might not even have, doesn’t seem important enough.” Jill muttered to herself, coughing a small laugh as she looked at the time and date in the corner of the screen. It said it was currently one in the afternoon, May seventeenth, two thousand and three. 

“Off by an hour, couple days, five months and about a decade.” Jill laughed as she paced in front of the map. It was likely the system was shunting the limited power from station to station as they were woken up by Jill. This dowsed her gnawing feeling of dread; she was the only one here, was the first in years. She was safe, or at least as safe as she could be in an Umbrella research facility, albeit an abandoned one.

“If these fuckers have left me anything, or if that reactor can get running again—” Jill trailed off as she looked over the residence and storage levels, Storage B covered by nebulous warning signs. “I could make my stand from here, even if things get worse before I can get a handle on the Bergatrollet outbreak, I can’t be targeted here. If Cromwell wasn’t acting alone, his allies will have no idea where I am.” Jill felt almost giddy, two days of terror, loss and hell and she felt like she finally had an edge, a weapon that she had hidden under her new coat that no one who would stand against her could see coming. She quickly backtracked to the elevator. The residence level was much of what she expected, a large common area, kitchen, and several small bedrooms off a long hallway. Storage Level A was difficult to grasp the scope of, the floor dark. Jill’s flashlight cast over crates labeled as MRE’s, non-perishable food stuffs, ammunition, weapons, even a crate of military grade plastic explosives. Jill made a mental note to return after restoring power. 

Jill shuddered upon closing the elevator door again, looking down at the red X painted over Storage B. She pressed the button for the reactor level and the car began to descend with the telltale electric whine echoing from high up the shaft. Jill took a deep breath as she passed the level Storage B, an outer door was pulled closed over the level, Jill shining her light in through a small window. She suppressed a gasp as she saw nearly a dozen squat, muscular bioweapons seeming to be in some kind of stasis.

“Lickers” Jill murmured, one wandering near the containment door, attracted by the sound of the elevator as Jill descended out of view. She exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath as she arrived at the reactor level. “If they haven’t broken out yet, they aren’t going to. I wasn’t exactly quiet upstairs.” Jill grumbled to herself as she stepped out of the elevator onto the reactor floor. She was in a thin hallway lined with thick glass windows. Jill cast the been of her light through the glass to see a large pumping room with numbered machinery. The other side showed a large, complex looking control room with soft lights telling her the consoles were still active. Jill reached the end of the hall where two doors stood. One was labeled “emergency evacuation” and the other “Control Room”. Jill entered the latter and stepped down into the dark chamber.

Emergency lights bathed the white terminals with a yellowy glow as Jill scanned the surfaces briefly. Her attention was drawn to a row of thin windows at the far wall, wedged between two towering consoles covered with gauges and status icons. Jill’s flashlight cut through the glass and fell on a cavernous chamber lined with pipes and power conduits. In the center of the room was a huge circle made up of small steel squares, some painted different colors. Jill recognized it instantly, from mention while she was in the Army from a friend whose brother was a nuke tech on a submarine to a documentary Chris had forced her to sit through after he had gone on a science kick, learning everything he could about a niche topic.

“You stashed an old RBMK down here you sneaky, ruski fucks. Probably the most budget nuclear reactor Umbrella could get their hands on and it’s just sitting down here ready to run.” Jill laughed, looking back at the control room. There was a large table sitting in the middle of the room with dozens of different safety manuals, some in English, others in Russian. She found the one labeled “Start-Up Procedure” and blew out a long breath.

“Best case scenario, I succeed, launch containment operations from here, go home in few weeks.” Jill muttered as she opened the manual. “Worst case scenario, I blow this up, contaminate the Valley, kill all the people and bio-weapons, prevent a E-type outbreak that kills millions in Europe.” Jill scoffed at her own weighing of the odds. “Easy enough choice I guess, though I’d like to get it right.”

Jill spent the next few hours flipping through the heavily technical manual, committing each procedure to memory, and finding the buttons and switches around the different consoles in the control room. The startup procedure was simple once she was sure of the order, leaving scraps of paper over the consoles labeling what order each switch was supposed to be flipped. The power indicator panel began to tick up, the orange numbers rising slow and steady as the running lights have way to bright, comforting glow coming from the ceiling tiles. The power level was set to raise to seven hundred megawatts over the rest of the day.

“Ok, gonna be doing that for a few hours, should move in a check on the groceries.” Jill laughed to herself as she left the control room, making her way out into the well-lit corridor, the COVE now fully operational and receiving power. Jill returned to her Humvee, quickly running through the still dark office catacombs. She slung a bag over her shoulder, grabbed her spare ammunition, the laptop and basics Barry had grabbed for her. Jill parked the Humvee in the collapsed section of one of the barracks, pulling a sheet of frozen dry wall over its grey surface to keep it semi hidden. She returned to the gate, pulled it closed and locking it behind her.

Jill’s search of the laboratory floor took about an hour but was painful. The smell of disinfectant, laboratory hum and the bright lighting in each stopped her in the doorway as she gritted her teeth and forced back the flashes of torment at the hands of Wesker and Gionne. Most of the labs had been cleared out, the researchers bringing their projects elsewhere when COVE was abandoned. The parasitology laboratory held a chilling reminder of the terrors Jill remembered hiding in Umbrella’s seemingly quite labs. In a large unit surrounded by plastic covered lab equipment, was a small glowing window. Upon looking inside, Jill saw a long syringe with a brown-orangish egg floating in a deep red solution. There was a barcoded label over the containment unit marked as “Master Plaga; Operational Prototype. Code_Matched_betaT-Vlicker”.

The residence was nondescript; empty fridges, but with power the taps were running with warm water. Jill tested the gas range, the oven and the microwave too. “Damn, nicer quarters than camp Lesovik.” She laughed as her boots echoed through the empty bunker, making her way down to the storage level. With the warehouse illuminated, Jill found the true prize of her search. 

The warehouse had provisions for dozens of people to be fed for more than a year, spare parts for all facility machinery, sophisticated medical equipment and first aid and an armory that rivaled the on Barry had detonated to neutralize the mutamycene outbreak that wiped out the BSAA expedition. Jill started by taking several monitors back up to the residence level, pushing several kitchen tables together to build a workstation in the common area. Internet was out, COVE’s communications were tied to the base due to its hidden nature and the antenna was completely disassembled and scavenged when Jill hunted around on the surface for it. Jill had only her saved files and documents on the E-series weapons to come up with her strategy.

Jill spent her evening going over every shred of information she had saved, scouring for a magic bullet, plans for treatment, mitigation, anything. She had a full-service laboratory at her disposal and a nuclear power plant. Each document, each report and investigation kept leading to a similar conclusion that began weighing heavy on Jill’s search.

_“It is the opinion of this investigation that mutamycene weapons present the greatest threat to human survival since the creation of the Golgotha Virus by the Umbrella corporation.”_

_“The E-series weapons, if developed to a viable standard, could be used to take down regions of the world without the BSAA or other watchdog agencies to provide evidence until far too late. This entity could control or infiltrate the BSAA itself and destroy it from within and present the impossible task of eradication to survivors in that the weapon is far less stable when destroyed. A rampant infection of this type could prove a greater risk than the Ouroboros project in its fully weaponized form.”_

_“The BSAA should strongly consider adopting the Gehenna Protocol for all future outbreaks of Mutamycene and E-based bioweapons.”_

_“Complete incendiary eradication should be strongly considered exempting the most controlled and limited of outbreaks made at the highest levels of BSAA and WHO analysis and scientific authority.”_

Jill put her head down on the table, her eyes tearing up from having stared at the screens for hours. The Gehenna Protocol, she had been in the room when it was developed in the earliest days of the BSAA and they had never used it. Racoon City, Terragrigia, they were the closest instances that the Gehenna Protocol was meant for. Complete obliteration of all organic compounds by means of thermal or nuclear explosion. It made Jill quake to think about applying that to Bergatrollet, what Barry had done to the camp.

“There has to be another way.” Jill paced, wandering back down to the reactor floor as she mulled the idea over. “Did Barry think of the same thing, is that why he stayed behind? Is this my sacrifice to make?” Jill’s mind swirled in a growing storm she tried to distract from by focusing on the COVE’s systems. The reactor was now at operating power, some small tweaks and Jill armed all the safety systems, feeling confident. She passed the emergency exit door again poked her head in. It was a dim corridor lined with pipes and conduits, occasional valves and fuse boxes punctuating the rounded surfaces. One path led to the reactor hall, the other to a marked emergency escape shaft that, based on the extreme draft Jill felt swirling around her feet, led out into the Valley. There was a lonely steel door forcing the snaking pipes upwards into the ceiling to make room for it as Jill tried the handle.

The door swung into a tight substation, a massive control panel on the wall glowing with all sorts of lights, connected conduits and labels. It took Jill a second to get her bearings until she noticed a name she recognized: Melna Upe Power Station.

“It’s a fucking map.” Jill muttered to herself as she rested her hands on the console. There were thousands of switches, coded and labeled to marks on the map. There was as simple guide bolted into the corner of the map: gold-natural gas, silver-electrical, blue-water, brown-waste, and so on.

“Utilities, Umbrella is down here with control over all utilities in the region, hiding its impact by shunting around people’s gas and water.” Jill shook her head in disgust, eyes following the spidering lines to a knotted mess glowing in the center of the map labeled “Bergatrollet Municipality”.

“Little dated but that looks about right.” Jill shrugged thinking about how, even after leaving, Umbrella was likely stealing from and controlling parts of Iarna Valea. 

“I could probably power that city off this reactor, if I’m already hooked into the grid.” Jill thought, tracing the connection with her finger.

_“Or push all of the Valley’s natural gas into the city’s pipes.”_

Jill paused, the thought growing faster than she could quash it. She felt suddenly nauseous. The explosives in the storage level, every couple substations, the entire city would be bathed in flame, buildings would come down, and _the infection would be gone._ She would do what Barry had, clear the outbreak before it can reach the rest of the Valley, potentially worse. Millions of people lived in this part of the world, and they had no idea, no one did. The Gehenna Protocol. 

Jill staggered back from the console as if it had burned her. Her chest heaved as she struggled to bring her heart rate down.

“No.” She rasped, the electrical hum of the instruments the only sound as her words faded.

“There’s got to be another way and—and TerraSave is probably taking more refugees, the containment can’t be complete with infected entering their camp.” Jill tried to rationalize, the idea of Claire in such imminent danger hurt more. She stormed out of the control room and practically ran back to the elevator.

“You have to make a decision, you have to handle this, _you’re the only one who can._ ” Jill’s mind was screaming at her as she rode up to the residence level.

“Tomorrow, no matter what you have work to do. Sleep on it and—” Jill paused, the empty room seeming to hold its breath, waiting for her to speak.

“Make this right, keep you promises, save who you can. Tomorrow.” Jill took a deep breath, saying the words out loud, as if hearing them echo off the concrete walls would hold her accountable, or at very least bear witness.

Claire breathed deep as she stepped out of the administration building. She needed a break, a breath of the fresh mountain air so cold it felt like inhaling after eating something profoundly minty. All morning and most of the afternoon had been helping register and house nearly a thousand incoming refugees. Each small issue came through Claire as the camp was still reeling from the sudden loss of senior staff. The moral of the mission was on the floor, the two-stage blow of the BSAA’s destruction and the discovery of a bioterrorist within their midst. 

“Think that should be all until tomorrow. They want to send us a hundred or so from the dead quarter. Issue with a gas leak making a building unsafe.” Moira spoke up, her boots crunching on the cold ground as she stood next to Claire.

“You holding up ok?” Claire asked softly looking over at Moira. She had her collar up, hands shoved in her jacket pocket. Her face screamed “I’m tired, lay off”, but she was putting up an effort for Claire.

“As much as I can I—” Moira trailed off, inhaling deeply. She exhaled through her mouth, savoring it as it billowed up in a soft white cloud. “I worry about what I didn’t say to him. I—we had our issues.” Moira coughed, Claire caught off guard as Moira held her hand over her mouth, fighting back a muted sob. “I loved him and I don’t think he always knew.” Moira whimpered as Claire put an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder as Moira sniffled, wiping tears from her eyes. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a Cyrillic marked pack of cigarettes. She raised it to her mouth and withdrew one with her lips, lighting it with a small matchbook taped to the bottom.

“Don’t give me that look. My dad is dead so neither him nor you get to tell me I can’t.” Moira spat before Claire could object. She bit her lip and sighed as Moira blew out a cloud of smoke, staring at Claire as their eyes met again. Her stern expression broke into a smile and then a nervous laugh. Claire gave in, Moira taking the cigarette from her mouth and leaning on Claire’s shoulder. “I promise not to in the bunks.”

“I’m buying you gum as soon as we get out of here.” Claire shot back as Moira scoffed.

“If we get out of here.” Moira sighed.

“Don’t talk like that. Day by day. We’ll make it.” Claire shot quickly, stamping out the doubt before it could crystalize in her own mind.

“You think your girlfriend has a plan?” Moira asked, raising the cigarette to her lips and pulling on it for a long moment.

“You mean Jill?”

“Who else, sweetheart.” Moira returned straightening up. She began walking in a small circle around Claire. She broke it and the two began to idly walk back towards the trailers. Despite being in charge, Claire had kept her bed there, opening the admin building up for critical medical care within the camp.

“I certainly hope she does. She’s got out of worse scenarios before. I mean—” Claire trailed off as half a dozen stories Chris had told her floated into her memory, the things that built her vision of Jill in her head. 

“I hope so too. I think she will, she seemed rough when she took out Woodhull, but that’s her element right?”

“Do you think I did the right thing?” Claire posed as Moira glanced at her, pulling the cigarette away from her lips.

“She would have had to shoot her way out if you didn’t lower the temperature. You can’t blame her for Cortier, fucking idiot.” Moira spat, the glob of spit steaming slightly as it hit the frozen dirt.

“Literally just come out of the fire, car covered in bullet holes. I try not to blame her either, she did what she had to keep us all safe, right? Stop the infection. I bet that’s what she’s working on right now. A way to stop it from spreading in Bergatrollet now that the smuggler has been found and taken out.” Claire supposed, trying to reassure herself too. Moira was smirking at her when she glanced over, Claire raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“You called the Humvee a car you hypocrite.” Moira laughed as Claire shoved her, Moira stumbling slightly as her laugh grew. They turned onto the camp’s main roadway, a hastily laid tar and chip road to make logistics easier. A make-shift market had sprung up along the edges where locals, TerraSave volunteers and foreign aid workers bartered. Refugees attempted to ply the trades they had left, been forced to leave or that had been obliterated in front of their eyes. People pooled resources and formed gardens in the little plots assigned to each household. Anyone with culinary skills tried to transform the aid rations into something more familiar and palatable. Claire loved this aspect of the camps, the resilience, the fight to maintain lives otherwise destroyed. It always made her smile to walk through whatever area sprung up among the TerraSave refugees. 

Claire snapped back as Moira tapped her arm gently, pointing to a small gathering of refugees. They were centered around a man, clearly standing on something, wearing a black frock with a distinct white collar. Claire’s brow furrowed, turning as she sensed someone come up on her left.

“Fucking priest is here again.” Megan spat as Moira groaned, pausing only to take a drag. “Miranda banned the last one from the camp after he started spouting the same shit the bishop did the other day, about TerraSave being responsible for all this.”

“The regular ‘oh the dead rise so it’s the end of the world cause ya’ll fuckers are gay and not Jesus freaks’ lot.” Moira huffed, rolling her shoulders and adjusting her coat. Megan smirked, shaking her head as Claire held her angry stare.

“Megan, have Miranda boot this one out too, after his sermon. Let any others in, I don’t want to play into their hand and seem like we’re coming down on them, but make sure they don’t go preying on people’s fear, especially now.” Claire added as Megan nodded.

“She wanted me to tell you that we have a few dozen trucks that the Bergatrollet transportation department could give. Mostly surplus military, a couple buses, in case we have to evacuate.” Megan added as Claire looked back to her. She met her gaze for a moment, the twitch of a smile on Megan’s face. 

“She’s doing well, I bet this is her first real crisis.” Claire thought before softening her expression. “Sounds good, Miranda not getting too big of a head cause of this, right?”

“She’s actually kinda mellow, nose to the grindstone. The Jeffries will not shut up thought, Quintin keeps trying to get other people to agree that his brother should have been put in charge and he would be made head of security.” Megan rolled her eyes as she replied, Moira coughing as she tossed the spent butt of her cigarette to the ground.

“Take him out the back gate and have him shot.” Claire delivered flatly as Moira threw her head back and laughed, leaning against Claire as she did. Megan giggled with her as she looked off at the market. “I’m going to go grab some coffee, assuming Orla hasn’t drunk it all.” Claire spoke up after a heavy moment, everyone enjoying a short respite from the crisis they’d felt looming over them the past few days. The trio began to back track to the trailers when Lauren came running up to them, gravel kicking up as she nearly skidded into Claire.

“Ms. Redfield, the—”

“Epperson, breath, and it’s just Claire, I’m not your CO.” Claire stopped her as Lauren took a deep breath through her nose.

“Fire, south east end of the camp, one of the storage sheds. Don’t know what started it but it’s spreading to some of the surrounding sheds and a couple tents. I think Darius and some of the refugees are keeping it contained but we need hoses to dowse it.” Lauren reported as Claire turned to the south east. There was a steadily blackening cloud of smoke rising at an angle with the wind.

“Moira, call the Bergatrollet fire department. Megan, go let Miranda know, I want to be prepared if this was deliberate.” Claire ordered, taking off in the direction of the fire, some people stopping as the smoke grew. Claire rounded a corner of tents, a small side street of the canvas city and was greeted with a row of locked storage sheds. Two were completely engulfed in orange flames. Several of the nearby tents were smoking as well, small fires breaking out as the wind carried sparks from the sheds. Darius Branagh stood with a handful of locals, all wielding fire extinguishers as they tried to stop the sparks from setting the tightly packed tents alight. Claire turned as she heard footsteps, Orla Foley and Stephen Miller, another member of Miranda’s aide team, ran by carrying additional fire extinguishers.

“Redfield! Grab one and help me try to get a handle of the roofs! The shingles keep sending sparks onto the tents!” Darius called out as he saw Claire. She ran over, grabbed one of the extinguishers and together they tried to dowse the roof of the fully burning shed. Claire’s face sweltered with the intense heat of the fire, the extinguishers hissing as white clouds tamed the blaze, but only enough to keep it from spreading. Claire and Darius held the fire back while Orla, Stephen and a dozen locals kept the flames from spreading to the tents, tossing used extinguishers to the dirt as more TerraSave ran over with fresh ones. By the time three large Bergatrollet fire engines rolled through the camp, about thirty people were working on containing the fire with even more watching. Claire and the other aide workers stepped back, exhausted as the firefighters took over, dowsing the burning structures with heavy streams of water. Within another half hour the blaze was out, three sheds destroyed, several damaged along with dozens of tents.

“Orla, can I put you and Darius in charge of this, clean up and rehousing while we take inventory of what we lost.” Claire sighted as the last of the flames disappeared under a hissing torrent of water and smoke. Nearly half the camp was turned out watching the fire burn down, lights from the fire engines washing over the grey canvas city as the sun began to dip over the edge of the mountains.

“Shouldn’t be a problem boss.” Darius spoke up as Orla nodded. Claire noticed the Jeffries and Miranda standing nearby, leaning close to Stephen, and talking low. Megan and Lauren stood near a group of refugees, comforting small children who had seen enough smoke and flame in the last few days.

“I need something stronger than coffee.” Claire muttered as she turned and walked back through the darkening tent city. It was nearly empty, most everyone watching the aftermath of the fire as Claire’s boots crunched along the frozen ground, paths worn into the cold earth from hundreds of footsteps.

Something wrapped around her torso and yanked her into a tent as she passed. Claire yelped; the sound suddenly muffled as a gloved hand was clapped over her mouth. One arm was pinned to her side as the other flew up to strike the person who had grabbed her. She could feel their breath on her neck as they released the hand covering her mouth to block her strike. Claire’s wrist was caught in an iron grip and held there.

“Don’t.” A low, firm voice chastised Claire. She knew it, it _felt_ familiar in her ear.

“Jill?” Claire hissed, trying to turn and look her in the eye, confirm it was actually Jill Valentine that had pulled her into a tent with no warning.

“Yes, now keep quiet, we have to go and go now. It isn’t safe.” Jill hissed, her grip on Claire softening but not relenting as Claire felt the tension relax. She didn’t pull away as Jill dropped her wrist.

“You’re ok! What the hell have you been doing? I know shit was difficult with Woodhull and you did, in essence, the right thing, but you left me to clean up the entire mess!” Claire’s excitement gave way quickly to frustration.

“I don’t have time; I made a promise to keep you safe and I’m keeping it. Where’s Burton?” Jill tossed back curtly as Claire began to squirm in Jill’s grip.

“Why? What is it? Let me go damnit!” Claire protested, growing more frustrated with Jill’s dark, cagey attitude as Moira suddenly ducked into the tent.

“Hey! Let her the fuck—” Moira began, as Jill tossed Claire aside, spinning and landing a hard kick to the side of Moira’s jaw. She grunted in pain and crumpled to the ground.

“What the fuck! Jill!” Claire shouted, struggling to get up as Jill knelt and lifted an unconscious Moira onto her shoulder.

“She didn’t know it was me, I don’t have time, we’re going.” Jill commanded, grabbing Claire under her arm and lifting her to her feet. Jill kept one hand on Claire’s back as she steered her through the camp, to the south west gate. There, Jill’s Humvee was idling, headlights off. Jill pushed Claire against the door as she opened the back seat, laying Moira across it.

“Do I have to buckle your belt for you?” Jill growled, walking up on Claire as she leant against the car. She scowled at the comment as Jill looked down at her.

“Answers, now, or I’m going back.” Claire spat back. Jill opened her mouth to retort as a explosion sounded in the near distance. There were several screams floating through the night as a small plume of fire rose from within the camp. Shortly several more joined it, evenly spaced, a jet of flame erupting every few hundred feet.

“Heating units.” Jill spoke, grabbing Claire by the shoulders and practically forcing her into the passenger’s seat.

“That has to be sabotage. They need me for—Miranda needs to evacuate.” Claire muttered, the reality dawning on her as she watched the camp’s propane heaters detonate, one after the other.

“Your security is for shit.” Jill replied as she put the car in gear and tore off towards the highway. “I need you safe while I take care of this.”


	7. Gehenna Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill brings Claire and Moira to an abandoned factory, holding out on the details of her plan to contain the outbreak until confrontation forces her tos how her hand to a terrified Claire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a fun chapter to write in that we got our first "Villain Jill" moment. I've been looking forward to starting her corruption arc for a while XD. That and this chapter was much closer to my ideal length after the last two monster chapters.
> 
> Hope everyone has a good holiday season and stays safe with the pandemic!
> 
> "How Villains Are Made" By Madalen Duke. This one just slaps but is a serious Jill vibe here and throughout the rest of the story.
> 
> "Get to Me" By Amber DeLaRosa. This song I like as kinda a faster paced action bop for Claire and Jill's fight and argument and then fight again XD

_“When everyone lies,  
Telling the truth isn’t just rebellion.  
It’s an act of revolution.  
So think carefully when you speak it,  
Because the truth is a weapon.”  
-Takeshi Kovacs _

The Humvee’s tires grated and crunched against the gravel lot outside of one of the derelict buildings littering the abandoned suburbs of Bergatrollet. Jill turned the vehicle off and stepped down, her coat trailing behind her as Claire followed. Jill lifted Moira out of the backseat, closing the door with her hip as she held Moira against her chest.

“She’ll be ok, wasn’t a hard strike, just a precise one.” Jill answered the look of concern on Claire’s face as she walked around to join Jill. “Can you get my bag from the back?”

“Yeah I—” Claire trailed off, complying as she opened the back of the Humvee and lifted a heavy, military backpack onto her shoulder.

“Stick close, place is a mess and I want to keep light to a minimum.” Jill added as she stepped off towards the monolithic industrial ruin. They entered through a service door cut into the steel exterior. The small entry way had several lockers against the wall and had a dusty, rank odor of abandoned textiles and rodent droppings. “Offices upstairs are a bit nicer, used to be a clothing factory, been abandoned since the war started.”

Claire followed Jill up three flights of concrete steps, opening a pair of fire doors for Jill as she carried Moira through. They stepped into a frigid corridor, drafty winter air whistling through the halls from some unseen broken window. Jill stepped into a break room, laid Moira on an acceptably stain-free couch. Jill held her hand up to Claire and rushed out of the room, returning in a second with a small, camping space heater and a dark blanket. She handed the blanket to Claire before setting down the heater and turning it on. Claire draped the dark cloth over Moira, covering her feet and resting the hem over her shoulder. Claire ran her hand over Moira’s cheek, the subtle yellow of a bruise beginning to form on her lower jaw.

“You ok to stay with her?” Jill asked as she stood, a wave of warmth washing over Claire as the small heater began to reach running temperature.

“Yeah, she should have someone here when she comes to.” Claire spoke, her mouth dry as she looked down at Moira’s blank face. The blanket gently rose and fell with her breathing as Claire ran her hand over Moira’s shoulder.

“I have some things I need to handle. Then we can—”

“I should have stayed, they’re going to need help, the whole camp has to evacuate and—” Claire croaked, shaking her head as she stared at Moira.

“There was nothing you could do. Your people will evacuate with or without you. I know a thing or two about feeling helpless, so—I get it.” Jill offered as a meager comfort, stepping behind Claire reaching forward to place her hands on Claire’s shoulders. She stopped as her outstretched fingers brushed the edge of Claire’s ponytail, curling her hands into fists and bringing her arms to her sides. Jill turned to leave and was startled to feel Claire’s hand close around her wrist, halting her mid stride. Jill turned to meet Claire’s somber gaze, her eyes tired and needing more than simple “I know how it feels” statements as comfort.

“I’m really glad you’re ok.” Claire sighed, her hand sliding from Jill’s wrist. Claire cupped Jill’s hand in her own, fingers gripping over the edge of Jill’s palm. Jill closed her hand on Claire’s, squeezing it gently as she forced a painful smile.

“I’m glad you’re ok to.” Jill returned, her voice coming out in a whisper as Claire’s melancholy longing transformed into a tenuous smile. Claire took a deep breath, her shoulders rising with it as her whole body seemed to breath a moment of relief.

“Stay safe for me? No matter what, let me help. I’m a lot more capable than I look.” Claire smirked as she got a soft laugh from Jill, shaking her head.

“I’ll be in the conference room down the hallway. Just call for me if you need me.” Jill returned, releasing Claire’s hand and striding out of the room in a flurry of dark coattails and thudding footfalls echoing through the derelict factory.

Claire stayed with Moira for another fifteen minutes, or a half an hour. She had no way of telling and the plain factory walls with company posters in Cyrillic writing offered no diversion. The space heater kept the room bearably warm without her coat on as Claire paced around the room, glancing back to Moira every few seconds. There was a sudden crash from down the hall, the sudden sound punctuating the silence startling Claire. It was followed by muffled swearing in Jill’s voice. Claire poked her head out into the dark hall, a soft yellow glow coming from a cracked door at the end of the corridor. She glanced back at Moira, still out cold, before stepping off down the hall. Claire reached the cracked door, flattening her hand over its cold surface and pushing it open.

There was a lantern burning a harsh yellow-white, sitting on the large central table. It was covered with loose electronic equipment, some looking like cannibalized cell phones and computers. Green packages labeled as explosives were open and empty, a handgun lay over a spread-out map of the Valley. On several of the cities there were lists written in marker; two columns, one labeled “Gehenna Protocol” and the other “Alternative Containment”. Often the second column was blank, like the notes next to the city of Bergatrollet. Claire also caught multiple locations marked as “Power Junctions.” And one triangle outside of Bergatrollet labeled as “TSave”. Jill was hunched over the map, hands leaning on the table as she whirled on Claire. Her expression was surprised a hint of fear quickly melting into anger.

“I told you to call me if you needed anything.” Jill spat, walking around the table, trying to casually pick up a small electronic device as she passed it. It had a red trigger, black handle and green housing with a small antenna. 

“I’m sorry for being concerned?” Claire laughed off, making her offense clear in her sardonic tone. “I heard something banging and I got worried. Things go bump in the night here.”

“I’m fine.” Jill hissed, looking out the windows along the far wall, the blue-ish white lights of Bergatrollet’s skyline only a couple miles off. Jill clasped her hands behind her as she took a deep breath, the device still in her grasp as Claire eyed it. Jill quickly hid it in her coat, trying to pass it off as if she had meant to, like pocketing her phone after checking the time. “This is just a—difficult problem. I got a bit frustrated, banged the table. That’s all.”

“Ok.” Claire accepted, walking up to the table, running her fingers over a collection of technical documents Jill had laid out next to the map. She turned them over idly as Jill stared out the window. “Who do you think is responsible for the attack on our camp? Is it possible Cromwell had allies?”

“It’s possible.” Jill mused, tilting her head down and placing her hand over her eyes. “I haven’t seen any evidence of any of potential allies. I think its just the last outbreak in the city.” Jill returned.

“Ok, well, grand scheme that’s good. Local sabotage then?” Claire continued, lifting another document to reveal a manual for the field heaters TerraSave used in their camps. Claire opened it, finding the full schematic for setting the unit up, covered in small, handwritten notes with arrows.

“The infection is E-type mutamycene. I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about that Claire, but its like the chrysalid virus on steroids and more infectious than the G-virus.” Jill spoke up, pacing in front of the window as Claire followed her. A chill ran up her spine at the thought, realizing the fight she had watched from afar had been much more desperate than she could have imagined.

“So, you—how did it get out?” Claire croaked, her throat dry, her fingers feeling cold.

“Mortars with spores. Both armies had been infected. DSO was able to kill the E-type, the weapon that kind acts like the master or the mind. That just left us with a rampant infection and mutations.” Jill returned as Claire nodded.

“I’m so sorry Jill, really.” Claire spoke after a long silence, Jill stopped and stared out the window. “How do we stop it?”

“I don’t—there really is only one way.” Jill started, took a deep breath and then deflected, voice sounding exhausted and defeated. What struck Claire was the tremble in Jill’s last word, it sounded like it was hard to get past her lips, like she was on the verge of tears. The statement stung in Claire’s mind as she looked down at the schematic of the camp water heaters again. There was a note and a small drawing next to the hook up for the propane tank that fueled the machine. 

“Shaped charge, timed detonation.”

“Jill.” Claire spoke up, ice flowing through her veins, boots suddenly weighing a hundred pounds each. “Who sabotaged my camp.”

Jill turned slowly; hands still clasped behind her back. Her hair was loose, windblown, a strand dangling from her widow’s peak and brushing over her sharp nose. There was a slight streak of blonde in it that told of all the damage hidden by the glower painted on her face. Jill glanced down at the paper in front of Claire and then back up at her, stare cold, digging into Claire’s soul and daring her to speak.

“Jill.” Claire tried again, voice wavering as her hands began to quake, she felt her hand moving to a combat knife she had clipped to her belt. It was instinct when she felt threatened, but it was _insulting_. This was Jill, her friend, her brother’s partner. This was someone she cared deeply for, someone she felt she—someone she felt she should feel safe around.

“Give me the detonator.” Claire mustered, furrowing her brow as Jill’s stare seemed to pull in more gravity from the room.

“No.” Jill returned, flat, direct and dangerous.

“Jill, please.” Claire implored, the soft slide of steel on leather as she pulled her knife from its sheath.

“What are you planning on doing?” Jill asked, looking at the glint of Claire’s blade and then back to Claire’s misting eyes.

“I can’t, Jill please, I can’t—” Claire’s voice cracked as she squeezed her eyes shut and forced her emotions down. “Why!” Claire shouted as Jill remained silent, her foot shuffling as her stance changed.

“Stop me then.” Jill dared as Claire glared at her, flicking the knife around in her grip. Before Claire could move, Jill had drawn a small pistol from her jacket and the crack of gunshot rang loud through the room. Claire felt her wrist twist hard as a professionally accurate round struck her knife and wrenched it from her grip. Claire turned back towards Jill only to see the soles of her boots flying towards her. Jill had vaulted over the table, landing a hard kick into the center of Claire’s chest, knocking her back against the wall with a thud that took the wind out of Claire’s lungs.

Claire cried out with the sharp pain as something struck the small of her back as Jill shoved her up against the wall. Jill’s arm was pressed against Claire’s neck, forcing her onto the tips of her toes as she sputtered and coughed. Jill was inches from her face, her eyes fire but her scowl looked like it was on the verge of crumbling into something else.

Claire struggled, Jill’s hold on her unyielding as Claire grasped at Jill’s arm. Claire formed her fingers together in a point and jabbed as hard as she could into Jill’s armpit, reaching under her coat. Jill sucked a tense breath through her teeth as her arm dropped, Claire swung her head forward, colliding with Jill’s septum. Claire tried to reach into Jill’s coat as she staggered, recovering faster than Claire had counted. Jill thrust her arm into Claire’s chest, palm first, throwing Claire back. She grunted as she hit the ground, sliding on the smooth floor and feeling something cold and metal against her hand; her knife.

Claire wrapped her fingers around the handle and clambered to her feet, Jill held her arms up in a neutral fighting stance, waiting for Claire to move.

“I don’t want to do this, please, Jill, you don’t want to do this.” Claire implored as Jill’s frown deepened.

“This isn’t about what we want.” Jill sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Claire dared to hope she was standing down, just for a moment, before Jill rushed her. Claire slashed with the knife, hoping to ward Jill off. She grabbed Claire’s wrist yanked her forward, Claire following her arm as Jill spun behind her. With a sharp motion, Jill twisted Claire’s wrist, opening her grip as the knife clattered to the floor. Jill kept moving the whole time, now pulling Claire’s arm behind her back, pinning her wrist between her shoulders and pushing her down onto the table. Jill held her there for a breath, her hips pinning Claire to the table’s edge as she tossed her shoulders, trying to escape Jill’s grip. 

Jill was silent as she pulled a strap off her backpack, planting her elbow into Claire’s back before forcing her wrists together. Jill wrapped the nylon strap over Claire’s arms several times, the coarse fabric pulled so tight Claire felt the bones of her wrists pressing painfully together. Jill tied the bond off with a hard tug that forced a yelp of pain past Claire’s lips, the sound falling into a growl as Claire lay her head down, trying to glare up at Jill.

Claire was pulled upright by the shoulders, then shoved down into one of the chairs surrounding the conference table. Jill stared at her, shoulders rocking with her heavy breathing, hair hanging loose over her face as she withdrew the detonator from her coat pocket.

“Why.” Claire mustered, puncturing a silence for them both to catch their breath.

“I needed anyone who might be infected in your camp back in the city.” Jill spoke in a dour, deep voice as she began to pace in front of the windows lining the wall. “I knew you had set up an evacuation procedure just in case you were attacked. I attacked you in a way you couldn’t easily fix or detect.”

“But why? To what end Jill, what is going on!” Claire demanded, tossing her shoulders as the nylon strap refused to budge.

“Because I’ve been pumping all the available natural gas in the valley into the pipes and sewers of Bergatrollet for the past eight hours.” Jill returned flat, damning. The response gave way to a silence that poured into the room from a place of doom and dread Claire had been afraid to consider.

“You mean to—”

“Detonate several charges placed throughout their infrastructure, the city goes up in flames like my base did, the infection with it.” Jill croaked; her voice hoarse as if she had been shouting for a long time.

“No!” Claire protested without thinking, renewing her struggle against her bonds. “You can’t, that’s thousands of people! We can find a way, quarantine the city, reach out to the BSAA, to the EU! We can fix this Jill, its not over yet, we can find a cure and—”

“There is no cure!” Jill suddenly screamed, Claire going silent as she shrunk down in the chair. Jills hands were shaking as she looked away from Claire, trying to find her words as she bit her lip, shaking her head. “There is no cure, there is no back up, no help. This isn’t Racoon City, this is a small, populated country in the middle of Europe. There is no way to contain it, if this infection gets out, millions may die, if I blow up the city, thousands will die. I’m the only one that can do this Claire, it stops with me and me only.” Jill lamented, turning the detonator over in her hands.

“Let me help you, its not too late. Jill, we can keep things under control, please, you’re being shortsighted.” Claire pleaded as Jill shook her head, a tear breaking from the corner of her eye as she avoided meeting Claire’s gaze.

“This is what has to happen.” Jill sighed, voice wavering as she looked down to the device in her hands and then up to meet Claire’s eyes. Tears were running down Jills face now, her eyes hollow and exhausted. “Claire, this is ripping me apart, this decision. I saw Racoon City firsthand; I know what this is. I was there to see the T-abyss virus, the Ouroboros project, I’ve seen just how far the people who make these weapons will go, only I know this, can understand it.” Jill explained, taking a deep breath, her exhale shaky as she bit her lip again, tears dripping off her chin.

“I—I’m about to go somewhere I can’t come back from.” Jill’s voice cracked as she started shaking, holding back a sob as she cleared her throat. “I’m about to jump and I’m scared. Even though I’m sure this is the right thing to do, it’s the only thing I can do. I’m scared and I’m going to jump and I—” Jill coughed, unable to finish the sentence without a deep inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth, “I need you to hold me while I fall.”

Claire felt her eyelids push a thin film of tears into the corners of her eyes as she blinked, the pain in Jill’s voice digging into her skin, making her chest ache. She nodded silently as Jill sighed deeply, approaching her. Jill undid the binding on Claire’s wrists and in an instant, she had sprung into action. Claire wrenched the detonator from Jill’s grip, threw it to the ground and crushed the plastic housing under her heel. Jill watched listlessly as Claire destroyed it before throwing her arms around Jill, hugging her over her shoulders.

“I haven’t given up on you, we’re gonna get through this, together.” Claire soothed, chin resting on Jill’s shoulder, speaking softly into her ear. Claire breathed deep as Jill wrapped her arms around Claire, pulling her body tight to her. Jill gripped Claire hard, hands clutching desperately at the fabric of Claire’s windbreaker as if she couldn’t get Claire close enough.

Claire hummed softly, a sound content and at peace as she looked off at Bergatrollet’s lights in the distance. The night bloomed brilliant white, fading to orange as Claire squinted, a plume of fire rising over the east end of the city. Within a few seconds, a shockwave accompanied by a massive boom thundered over the factory. Claire shuddered, watching another explosion rise up behind it, another, followed by two more billowing columns of flame. Claire was pulled back to reality as she felt Jill’s fingers clawing at her as her grip tightened.

“What have we done Jill.” Claire breathed, Jill’s hair brushing over her ear as she lent her head against Claire’s.

“Timed detonation. The detonator was for your camp. There was nothing you could have done.” Jill muttered as Claire shoved her away, mouth open and lost for words as Jill looked at her. 

“Jill—” Claire croaked as Jill wiped tears from her eyes, letting out a withering breath as she turned to the window, watching the fires of the city burning clearly through the night, the distant cry of a siren rising through the frigid air. 

“The Valley will be safe Claire, tens of thousands of people in this country.” Jill sighed; her voice sounded heavy in her throat as she anticipated the next explosions. They stared in silence for a few minutes as smoke began to rise, lit by the orange of distant fire. “Where are the rest.” Jill muttered, the words barely a whisper as her shoulders tensed.

“What?”

“The rest, the entire city has to go up or the Gehenna Protocol fails.” Jill returned, more frantically as she stepped closer to the window, arms by her sides. “No, no, it can’t—not after all this.” Jill wept, covering her mouth as she watched the fires burn. “They’re not going off, either the gas dissipated, someone found them, something—I just killed thousands of people and the Valley is going to be infected anyway.”

“No, Jill, it looks like its just the Dead Quarter,” Claire spoke up, grabbed by the sudden show of raw grief from Jill. She didn’t want to do this, she genuinely thought this was the only way, even with Claire still feeling adamant that it wasn’t. Jill was still here, and Claire could bring her back “It was mostly evacuated, the infected were there, we should go, help contain this. Jill, we can still fix this!” Claire implored as Jill shook her head, not turning to look at Claire.

“Have you heard the myth they talk about here? In Iarna Valea?” Jill asked, distantly as she turned to look Claire in the eye. “A spirit of vengeance, they call it Volkiidu, comes with winter and tragedy and death.” Jill continued as Claire approached, placing her hand on Jill’s cheek. Jill leaned into the touch for a second, closing her eyes and bringing her hand to Claire’s wrist. She locked her grip around Claire’s arm and twisted, spinning Claire and pinning her against the table.

“Your compassion is your downfall Claire.” Jill hissed as Claire grunted, glaring up at Jill as she held Claire’s head down on the table. “With the people you protect, and with me.” Jill sighed, “and I love that about you, but it will get you killed.” She looked up suddenly as she heard several loud footsteps running through the hall. The door was thrown open, Claire looking up to see Quintin, Robert, Orla, Megan and Miranda; all armed.

“That was you?” Miranda screamed, pointing out the window as addressed Jill, still holding Claire down on the table.

“Miranda, don’t do anything—”

“Let her go or we shoot!” Robert interrupted Claire, raising his weapon with Quintin and Miranda. 

“Easy, easy, Agent Valentine please this doesn’t have to—” Megan started to speak as a crack from Quintin’s rifle cut her off. The round soared through Jill’s hair and broke the window behind her. Jill acted before anyone else, throwing Claire to the floor and out of the way of gunfire as Quintin and Robert shot again. Jill threw herself against the peeling dry wall, shoulder punching through and disappearing.

“Go, follow her! She’s the one behind all this!” Robert shouted as Quintin ran through the hole Jill had left, Miranda following quickly behind him. 

“Tell them to stand down, there’s. she was trying to contain, its not right but—” Claire stuttered, her body sore as she was helped to her feet by Megan and Orla.

“Take it easy, you look a bit rough. We found Moira, she’s ok, she told us about Valentine, that she took you two here. We saw the Humvee on the highway and suspected something. Darius and the other teams got everyone into the city and then we came here.” Megan explained as Claire steadied herself. The three looked up as more gunfire came from the hall, echoing through the empty building.

“Claire, was Jill really the one who did this?” Orla asked looking out at the fires of Bergatrollet.

“Yes.” Claire breathed, looking down at the table, grabbing a handgun Jill had left. She dropped the magazine and checked the safety as more gunfire reverberated through the building. “It’s more complicated than it seems, she was trying to stop the outbreak.” Claire continued, looking up at Megan and Orla’s faces. They seemed confused, angry, relieved, and scared. 

“That doesn’t mean we don’t try and stop her.” Claire added as she stood, walking over to the hole in the wall.

Jill ran to the railing of a catwalk in the main hall of the factory, old, abandoned looms and other heavy machinery littering the floor beneath her. The handgun she kept hidden in her coat was tight in her grip, irritated she left her BSAA issued piece behind.

“I hope time has been kind to you. No jamming please.” Jill muttered, looking at the soviet relic before hearing loud footsteps behind her.

“Drop it!” Robert yelled before his brother followed, leveling his gun and firing at Jill. One round struck the guard rail opposite of Jill, the second whizzed by her as she vaulted over the railing and landed on the factory floor, tucking into a roll before taking off into the maze of machinery. More gunshots followed, ricocheting off the steel equipment as Jill ran. These weren’t soldiers, Jill wasn’t too worried as long as she stayed ahead of them. They shouted behind her as they looked for a way down, Jill turning her attention to finding an exit. More weaving through old steel, abandoned bundles of fabric. Jill froze as she caught sight of one of the TerraSave members as he rounded the corner. He saw her before she could move away, raising his weapon as she matched him.

“Don’t do it kid.” Jill growled.

She felt a sting in her arm before hearing the gunshot and he was dead before the recoil of his own weapon hit his shoulder. Jill checked the tear in her coat, just a graze. He had no idea how to handle a rifle and Jill had put two rounds in his chest before she had even had time to think. 

“Fucking idiot.” Jill spat, turning and resuming her search for an exit. She had given him a chance, more than some others had. That was enough, wasn’t it? She heard screaming behind her, new anger and grief and rage as she entered a long storeroom, seeing an exit sign at the far end. She took off towards it when she heard someone come in behind her. Jill whirled, arm raised finger on the trigger as she saw Claire, holding a gun on her.

“Jill.” Claire spoke firm, clear, despite the shine on her cheeks, the drips coming off her chin. “This has to end. No one else has to die.” Jill held firm, hearing running footsteps coming up behind Claire.

“You going to shoot me?” Jill spat, lowering her weapon and walking towards the door. A round struck the steel in front of her as Jill looked back at Claire, a whisp of smoke fading fast in front of her.

“Jill, please.” Claire implored as Megan, Miranda and Robert ran in behind her. Jill looked at them with anger, sighing deeply as she tossed the gun to the floor in front of Claire.

“Thank you.” Claire sighed, a little of the tension in her shoulders relaxing. “Secure her with something, I think I saw a pack of zip ties on the shelf.” Claire commanded, looking over her shoulder at the trio. Megan found them quickly and cautiously approached Jill with Miranda. Jill’s eyes followed Claire, stare intent as Claire glanced back at her. She couldn’t bare it, a look that carried anger and—judgement. Jill’s eyes told Claire that she had betrayed something. Jill had asked for her trust and she had said no. Even if all of what Jill had said had been the cold, difficult truth, Claire couldn’t bring herself to believe that firebombing a city of thousands was the only thing to be done.

“She’s going to pay.” Robert growled behind her as he shouldered his way past Claire, it took her mind a second to catch the knife in his hand. The fog of everything clouding Claire’s brain. 

Megan cautiously grabbed Jill’s arms, pulling them behind her as Miranda pulled the zip ties tight, then forced Jill onto her knees. Jill didn’t break eye contact with Claire, not for a moment as Claire held the gaze, near in a trance. 

Claire snapped back as Robert held the knife to Jill’s neck, his voice distant, growling about his brother.

“Robert,” Claire’s voice was dripping with venom, her senses flooding back to her as Miranda and Megan were too stunned, or angry to stop him, “If you don’t put that knife down, I’ll kill you myself.” Every emotion Claire had felt, every direction she had been pulled by the bombing, by Jill, was now distilled into a singular rage. Something she could handle, something she could point.

“She killed—I don’t know how many people.” Robert shouted back, Jill still staring into Claire. “She was probably the one behind the attack on our camp, how do we know she isn’t behind everything that was going to shit!” He screamed, the kind of cracking in his voice telling Claire that he was barely avoiding bursting into tears. This wasn’t about the city; it was about Quintin. Claire was sure he hadn’t given Jill a choice, she had to be sure.

“She was attacked by a weapon that can control infected, she survived years of torture under the thumb of mind control drugs. She may not be responsible for this and you can’t take it out on her.” Claire tried, reaching for something to defuse the situation, something that even made her feel better about what had happened. Robert accepted this, or at least the threat and pulled away. Claire met Jill’s eyes again, unsure what she saw, but Jill’s guard was up, and it was strong. Whatever Jill had chosen to show Claire upstairs, before the bombs went off, it was gone now. 

“How did you all get here?” Claire spoke up, directing the question at Miranda.

“Took the Renault and one of the old army trucks.”

“Ok, I’ll take the truck with her, Moira and Orla. Megan you, Robert and Miranda take the SUV. We’re going to try and regroup out at the satellite camp near Padurjate. We see what state they are in and then we can see how to help Bergatrollet.” Clare commanded, walking over to Jill and helping her to her feet. 

“And then what?” Megan asked as Claire sighed, leading Jill out the exit of the factory into the freezing night, the distant sounds of sirens and the steady roar of gas-fed fires echoing around the mountains.

“I don’t know, it’s a three-hour drive through, assuming the weather stays this shitty.” Claire returned as she looked out at the floating swarm of snowflakes being blown around. There where two vehicles parked near Jill’s Humvee, both running with their headlights illuminating the front of the building. “Miranda, go help Orla bring Moira out here, I’d like to get to that camp before the storm gets too bad, making camp on the side of the road doesn’t sound appealing.” Claire sighed, staring out at a line of cars fleeing the city by way of the main highway. It was a loose group, not a mass exodus, but more traffic than Claire had ever seen on the abandoned road.

Claire led Jill over to the back of the truck, dropping the tailgate and helping her climb in the back. Jill sat on the bench as Claire raised the gate and began undoing the canvas cover and lowering it over the back.

“So, what now.” Jill asked, voice flat as she pulled her bound wrists under her legs. She sat back, almost lounging as Claire glared at her.

“I don’t know. Its not like you left me with many choices.” Claire spat as she tied off the canvas back to the truck. Jill chortled, shuffling down to the dusty floor of the truck.

“Ok, contingency. Let’s see how good you committed that grid map to memory.” Jill muttered softly to herself as she began to draw out a rough map of the Valley’s power grid in the dirt.


	8. Survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and company meet up with a group of survivors from Padurjate, where the TerraSave fall back position is. Jill overhears a critical piece of information and makes her move, showing a determination to complete her mission despite resistance from TerraSave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started my day making Claire Redfield cry cause that seems to be what I do in fanfics XD
> 
> Had some fun muddying the waters when it comes to what Jill has done here, how Claire is handling the balance of her personal feelings and her responsibilities to TerraSave and her group of survivors. That and Moira's just stress smoking through this whole ordeal.
> 
> "Need Nothing" By VERITE. I really like this song as a mood for Claire and Jill's dynamic at the moment, despite the anger and the hurt, they deeply care for each other still and it comes across in short, subtle moments and actions.
> 
> "Me and the Devil" By Soap&Skin. This song 110% Jill's vibe at the power station, just ugh, this is what I wanted to write her Villain arc for.

_“Let experience wash over you.  
Absorb it like a sponge.  
Expect nothing.  
Only then can you be prepared for anything.”  
-Quellcrist Falconer _

The highway wasn’t crowded, but the occasional abandoned accident and derelict car paired with a steadily worsening snow fall, they barely made it twenty miles before Claire decided to have the convoy pull off onto a wide shoulder. There was an empty gas station, windows smashed out, aisles of snacks and cheap alcohol knocked to the ground, the cash register torn open and turned over. The drink fountain still hummed in the corner as Claire inspected the store for anything useful, Orla by her side with a flashlight.

“I guess it wouldn’t really matter if we topped off?” Orla broke the quiet gas station, wind howling beyond the shattered glass as snow came down in diagonal sheets.

“Guess not.” Claire returned, sweeping her feet through a pile of powdered glass next to a smashed hotplate display. Orla walked behind the counter and started working on the register. Claire continued to pace, holding the pistol she had taken from the factory tightly in her right hand. She felt a wave of de ja vu, looking around the trashed gas station, feeling alone and a deep sense of dread.

“We’re good, pump two for gas, pump four with diesel for the truck. Looks like there’s still enough for a full tank.” Orla called to Claire, snapping her back as she turned.

“That was fast.” Claire quipped as Orla shrugged.

“My first job was in a seven eleven.” Orla smiled as she reached under the counter and grabbed an emergency first aide kit. “This place wasn’t looted by survivors, just people panicking.”

“What does that make us?” Claire sighed as Orla opened the kit, checking the contents.

“Survivors that can help others?” Orla posed, looking to Claire for approval. Claire wanted to smile, the little glint of positivity trying to uplift her and floating right through a series of holes Claire hadn’t been able to patch.

“Grab a pack of cigs for Moira, I said I’d look.” Claire returned with a barely noticeable nod. She stared through the broken front doors into the storm as Orla crinkled through plastic wrapped boxes behind the counter. Light was thin through the flakes of snow; brilliant white behind and ghostly gray-black swirls over the dark highway. The canopy over the gas pumps offered a tired yellow glow that gave just enough illumination to the ground to let Claire’s eye grasp colors. The beams of the truck’s headlights cut through the bottom of the gas station, parked a few yards from the pumps, showing the true colors hidden by the yellow canopy lights. Claire stared at the truck, canvas cover fluttering in the dark, ice caking the grill and grey snow wedged into the knobs of the tires. Moira was outside the passenger’s side, smoking silently, the hood to her jacket up. Miranda was standing near the back of the truck with a rifle, pacing a small circle and trying not to look cold. Megan and Robert where over by the Renault, shouting something that didn’t make it to Claire through the wind.

She couldn’t stop staring at the back of the truck, knowing Jill was sitting on one of the bench seats, ankles zip tied to the bar underneath. Claire had brought her a blanket and had been met with a stare that left her more shaken than anything she had yet seen in Iarna Valea. Jill didn’t respond to Claire’s feeble attempts to coax her to talk, to explain. Claire was angry, furious with Jill. She had refused Claire’s help, killed a member of her team and now wouldn’t even give her the smallest inclination as to why, what her plan was. Claire jumped as a hand settled gently on her shoulder, Orla standing next to her, looking concerned, a pack of cigarettes in her coat pocket.

“You ok?” Orla asked softly, as if they could be overheard and wanted to keep her words private.

“I—” Claire started, her voice catching in her throat as she stared back out at the truck. “No.” Claire’s voice was hoarse and tired. She stared at the floor as if she had dropped something that shattered into a million pieces and the thought of trying cleaning it up was too much to process in a single moment. She felt nauseous, her hands shaking as she brought them to her face and inhaled deeply, the cold air abrasive against her throat. Claire coughed, sputtered and covered her mouth as the noise broke into a whimper, tears breaking over her cheeks. They ran warm, nearly steaming against her cold skin as Orla set down the first aid kit, pulling Claire into a tight hug. The honest show of solidarity pulled Claire back from the wall she was holding, letting it clatter to the ground and kick up all the dust of the emotions she had tried to settle. Claire threw her arms around Orla and sobbed into her shoulder, Orla running her hand slowly over Claire’s back. Her cries were punctuated by sudden gasps for air, muffled by Orla’s coat as she hummed in a slow, soothing manner.

“She was supposed to be the one that—that if everything went to shit, she’d help us. She’d keep people safe.” Claire wept as Orla kept her grip on Claire. “She was supposed to be looking out for the people in that city not fucking bombing them!” Claire spat, forcing herself to become angry, hating the vulnerability of the sickening grief and betrayal. “She was supposed to protect us, instead she’s killed Quintin and I don’t know who else if I hadn’t stopped her.” Claire stepped back, Orla keeping her hands on Claire’s arms. “I tried to help her!” Claire shouted now, pulling back and turning away, bringing her hands to her temples. She wanted to scream, wanted to go back to the truck and demand answers, threaten Jill until she gave them. “I tried to help her and she fucking rejected it, threw me and thousands of people aside like we’re meaningless.” Claire continued, pausing and taking a deep breath. A strand of hair hung loose in front of her face, irritating and catching with the tears in her cheek. She pulled the band out of her hair and quickly tried to put it back up.

“Claire.” Orla started, nervous but determined in her tone. “I talked to Moira and talked to Megan and they told me what happened. I know its more than what Miranda and Robert are saying, and what you’re saying.” Orla continued as Claire looked at her, anger forced onto her face but not committed to staying.

“I think Jill’s in a really bad place right now, and Moira thinks so too. Moira gets what people might do when they’re desperate, how it might seem hateful and cruel. It doesn’t change that its wrong, but it means they aren’t evil.” Orla offered as Claire inhaled deeply through her nose and nodded.

“I’m sure she’s heard the stories about what her father did at the Spencer Mansion by now.” Claire grumbled, trying to slow her heart rate with steady, long breaths.

“Megan also told me that Quintin was—less than professional or helpful when they confronted Jill. That the first thing she did was to move you out of harms way before trying to flee. I don’t think Quintin deserved to die, but I don’t think he gave Jill a choice.” Orla sighed deeply as Claire nodded.

“I imagine he didn’t, fucking idiot kid making mistakes in the kind of mess where they get you killed. Still doesn’t make it right.”

“No, it doesn’t, but I think Jill isn’t a lost cause. I think she needs you right now more than you could possibly know.”

“And what if I need her?” Claire spat back, feeling tears well up again, clouding her vision. “What if I need her right now more than I’ve ever needed anyone?”

“I can’t speak for everyone but—” Orla started, looking away and clasping her hands together. “I’m here for you, Moira is here for you and I think Megan too. We’ll try to look out for each other while you try and get Jill back so we can take on the real threat.”

“What makes you so damn sure Orla? That she’s just in a bad place and just needs a blanket and hot chocolate to come back. She’s killed people and was signed on to kill thousands more!”

“Because I have to be sure!” Orla snapped back, catching Claire off guard. “Cause that’s what happened to Rachel.” Orla was close to tears as Claire froze. She remembered the horror story Jill had recalled from the incident that took down the FBC, of how Rachel Foley was fodder in a scheme to centralize power under Morgan Lansdale and the FBC by faking bio terror attacks.

“Rachel was seeing enemies everywhere it was consuming her.” Orla continued as Claire took a step towards her. “She was one hundred percent behind Lansdale’s decision to destroy Terragrigia, my parents were horrified by the rhetoric she spouted at home and they didn’t speak again after that. Gina and I tried to reach her, but she was so distant; but it came from fear and an underlying desire to do good in a violent and terrifying world where her enemies were in front, beside and behind her.” Orla sniffled as she looked Claire in the eye. “I never gave up on her, and I don’t think she was ever malicious or wanted to do harm. She died alone and afraid because Gina and I couldn’t be what she needed to bring her back. I don’t want you losing someone like Jill the same way.” Orla finished, her expression imploring and confident, even as her lip was quivering reliving the pain of losing her sister.

“My turn.” Claire smiled, pulling Orla into a hug as she laughed, sniffling a little as she collected herself.

“I just don’t want to lose anyone else, there’s been too much death here already.” Orla muttered as Claire released the embrace. 

“That’s fair. I’ll try and take that to heart.” Claire assured as she glanced back out at the vehicles. Moira was lighting another cigarette, Miranda walking up to her and failing to bum one off Moira. Megan was angrily pacing in front of the Renault and Robert was sitting in the passenger seat, the car turned on.

“Let’s see if there’s anything good left in the snack isle, try and lift everyone’s spirits while we wait for dawn.” Claire posed as Orla offered a short smile.

The group was desperate for any distraction and the handful of looted pastries and gas station candy was enough for a moment’s distraction for everyone. Claire forced everyone to take something from a box of energy bars and trail mix marketed as healthy, imploring them to keep up strength. This was met with grumbling acceptance and a laugh from Megan. Claire climbed into the back of the truck to find Jill laying up against the canvas with her eyes closed.

“What.” Jill commanded more than asked as Claire tried to set a few energy bars and bottle of water down silently for Jill.

“I— just some food and such so you don’t starve.” Claire tossed back, forcing an irritated tone into her voice. The first time Jill had spoken to her in hours and it was an impersonal command.

“Hmph.” Jill grunted, opening her eyes, and looking at Claire. The blue sparkled among the dingy greys and greens of the dark truck, stunning Claire where she stood, awkwardly hunched over with the canvas flap held open with one arm. Jill looked Claire up and down for a moment, eyes tracing her silhouette before meeting her gaze again. “Did I hurt you? Back at the factory?”

Claire wanted to throw dozens of answers back at Jill, how it had stung that she didn’t trust her, that Jill had gone forward with a plan that mortified Claire, how she had killed a member of her team, how she had refused to back down until Claire had to point a gun at her. All the things that dug into Claire’s chest and dominated her mind where held back by her tongue.

“No, just a light bruising or two but I’ll be fine.” Claire returned softly as Jill nodded.

“Well, that’s good.” Jill exhaled sharpy, taking it like a report from a subordinate, her eyes closing again as she leant up against the canvas cover again. Claire jumped down, zipping up the back of the truck in an angry huff. She was mad with herself, for a moment hoping to get something out of Jill only to be shut down again in a brutally detached way. 

“Robert’s mouthing off about killing her again.” Morgan’s voice snapped Claire back from her thoughts as she looked up. Megan’s arms were folded over her chest, a beanie pulled to her brow which dipped as she furrowed it.

“Fuck.” A small cloud came from Claire’s mouth with the word, she didn’t have any energy for Robert’s bravado laced poor coping mechanisms. 

“I banished him to the Renault while we waited for you.” Megan shrugged as Claire coughed up a laugh she didn’t feel. “What’s our next move?”

“I don’t want to, but we should probably camp here for the night. Storm’s getting worse, we’re what, about forty miles from Bergatrollet?” Claire posed.

“Maybe thirty. Gas station looks dark except for the emergency lights.”

“Back up generator, keeps the pumps running when there’s a bad storm or—” Claire trailed off as she heard someone’s footsteps crunch up next to her.

“We’re going to be staying here, Red?” Miranda asked quietly. She seemed distant, exhausted as she clutched her rifle, trying to hide her shivering.

“I think so, I bet it has some emergency heaters or something. If not, its shelter from the storm.” Claire returned as she looked over her shoulder, Moira was still leant against the truck, Orla huddled next to her as they passed a cigarette back and forth between them.

“What about Valentine?” Miranda added, looking up nervously at Claire, like she expected a sudden outburst or a blow.

“Bathroom locks, she can stay in there.” Claire spat, walking off before anything else could be said.

The group slowly migrated into the abandoned gas station, Megan unboxing and setting up half a dozen space heaters throughout the store. Orla parked the vehicles in front of the broken windows to shield from the wind while Claire, Robert and Miranda arranged to aisles to give them room to lay out a couple sleeping bags and a rack of winter coats as a makeshift bedding. Claire returned to the truck, grabbing Jill by the arm and leading her to one of the bathrooms. She set blanket down for Jill and left without a word, locking the door behind her. Everyone else had claimed a corner or a spot on the floor and was trying to get to sleep and put the world away for a few hours.

Claire picked one of the piles of gas station clothing, the poly material uncomfortable and cold as she tried to rest her aching legs and back. Claire’s senses began to dull as she drifted off to sleep, punctuated by a sharp stink of tobacco next to her. Claire opened her eyes to see Moira lying next to her, she had flakes of snow in her hair as she let out a long sigh.

“Sorry I know you hate the smell.” Moira whispered as She turned to look at Claire, her eyes shimmering in the low light.

“Its ok.” Claire started, seeing right through the cold veneer Moira was trying to uphold. “You holding up?”

Moira bit her lip and shook her head, laying on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her hand found Claire’s and gripped it hard. Moira blew out a long breath and closed her eyes.

“No matter what Claire, I want you to know I’m with you. Ok?” Moira mustered after a moment. Claire smiled a little at the sentiment.

“I got your back too, kiddo.” Claire returned as Moira hissed a soft laugh.

“Again, sounding like your damn brother. I like that right now though.” Moira teased, squeezing Claire’s hand a little. “I’m gonna try and rest, put everything out of my head for a bit.”

“Me too.” Claire returned as Moira rolled over, leaving Claire alone with her thoughts.

Claire was up first, stirring Moira and Megan awake before she went to unlock the bathroom. Jill was standing when Claire opened the door, Claire freezing for a moment, half expecting Jill to attack her. They held a silent stare for a minute before Claire exhaled sharply into the frigid morning air.

“Time to go.” Claire muttered as Jill blinked, holding her position. Claire cocked her head towards the door and Jill followed, brushing off the hand Claire laid on her shoulder. Jill stepped up into the back of the truck as Claire closed the canvas behind her. The rest of the party was slowly getting up, the glint of yellow dawn illuminating the snow covering the ground. 

The storm had dropped about six inches, the wind blowing clouds of dusty snow off peaks and dunes formed over the highway. The clouds that had dumped the snow where still visible in the distance, more sinking into the Valley from the western mountains far off in the distance. The truck had no issues with the snow, carving a path that the Renault followed. Orla and Megan sat on the bench seat of the truck as Claire drove it down the abandoned highway, steering around half buried cars and anything else that looked like a hidden road hazard.

The only sound for nearly an hour was the engine and crunch of snow under heavy tires. The wind would occasionally buffet the cab, nudge the truck a little before Claire corrected. Orla was the first one to speak.

“Robert has been suggesting that Jill’s the one behind the outbreak, that she’s been staging things to try and make it seem worse so the BSAA can have more power.” Orla spoke nervously. Claire wanted to slam on the brakes, drag Robert out of the Renault and leave him in a snowbank.

“Robert’s a fucking idiot who forgets he’s an aid worker and gets all puffed up every time someone outshines him and his bullshit machismo crap. Someone’s always to blame with him.” Claire hissed, eyes narrowing as she gripped the steering wheel harder.

“Claire, I’m sorry for asking, but he’s wrong, right?” Megan spoke up this time, Claire catching her eyes in a brief glance. She was afraid.

“Yes.” Claire huffed, calming herself as they came over a large rise, a small village a couple miles off the highway visible among the trees.

“She did kill Quintin.” Megan added, not angrily, more matter of fact.

“She did and I’m sure he didn’t give her any recourse.” Claire added.

“Why? I’m not questioning it Claire, I just need to know why you feel that way.” Megan pressed.

“Jill was telling me about the outbreak before the bombs went off in Bergatrollet.” Claire started, taking a long pause while she remembered the lecture, the fight and the fires. “She said it was something called a mutamycene, a novel bioweapon like the C-virus and more dangerous than the G-virus. She was trying to enact a procedure the BSAA calls Gehenna Protocol, it was written all over her maps.” Claire explained feeling her eyes water, thinking about how bad things must have been when the BSAA base was attacked, how bad things would have to get for Jill to go this far.

“Is that what she was doing with the bombs?” Orla asked, staring through the windshield towards the village as it grew larger.

“Yeah, from what I’ve heard my brother talk about, its basically what they did to Racoon City. Jill said she needed to do that to Bergatrollet before it got out. I thought she was wrong and she turned on me.” Claire choked on her last few words, tears breaking over her cheeks. Megan put her hand on Claire’s shoulder, trying not to interfere with her driving. “She’s not bad, she’s just wrong and I won’t let her keep going with that plan. I have to believe there is another way.” 

“I’m with you there.” Megan assured as Orla nodded with her.

“Robert’s been talking about getting others together when we reach the camp, holding some kind of mock trial for Jill. You should know, I think Miranda is thinking with him more and more. They won’t say anything in front of you though.” Orla added, adjusting in her seat as the village came into clear view.

“Thank you both of you, we’ll deal with them as that happens. Right now, I just want to keep Jill from trying any more containment protocols, convince her to help us. I don’t think she’ll hurt anyone unless we corner her again.” Claire tried to assure, hoping it was true herself.

“I don’t think she’ll hurt _you_.” Megan spoke quietly, not angrily but directed at Claire.

“Look at those tents, laid out in that lot outside, looks like a grocery store.” Orla spoke up before Claire could reply to Megan. “TerraSave tents, some of our mission are here!” Orla’s excitement built, a glimmer of hope peaking out from the greys and greens of the village set up against the forest. Claire pulled off the highway, checking her mirror to see Moira following in the Renault. Claire pulled the truck along the two-lane road running along the makeshift camp, putting the vehicle in park and hopping down into the snow. The Renault crunched up behind them as a few people from the camp turned to see the new arrivals. Two men dressed in civilian clothes walked up and greeted Claire.

“So good to see there are more survivors. We heard the worst of what happened; Bergatrollet destroyed and the dead spreading to the Valley.” The shorter, younger of the two men spoke first, taking Claire’s hand in a firm handshake.

“I can’t speak to destruction, but the city isn’t safe anymore. Panic with an outbreak makes for spread. Who’s in charge of this camp? I didn’t realize we had a satellite here.” Claire returned, too exhausted for platitudes.

“Refugees who fled Padurjate, when Bergatrollet fell, the power went out. People panicked and the camp was looted in the chaos.” The younger man answered as Claire’s heart sank.

“It’s as the Bishop said, it is the endtimes. The dead walk and the emissary of hell, the demon of the Valley, is responsible for the destruction. Where Volkiidu goes, the dead rise and cities burn.” The older man spoke now, a gravelly and shaky voice preaching doom.

“Agh, don’t mind this relic. He’s only allowed to sit on the village’s committee because he’s older than the dirt under your feet.” The younger man dismissed as Claire nodded.

“Ok, are their any international aid teams here? Anyone from Bergatrollet or Padurjate?” Claire asked, anxious to hear the fate of their fall back camp.

“Yes and—well here they are—” The younger local’s words were cut off by a shout of relief and joy as Darius, Lauren and Stephen ran up, recognizing Claire’s group as they climbed out of their vehicles.

“I thought you died in the attack.” Darius choked through joyful tears, hugging Claire as Lauren ran up to Miranda, expression going dark as they spoke low to each other.

“It’s a long story, how’d you end up here?” Claire returned, still unsure how to address Jill, still bound in the back of the truck.

“When the bombs went off in our camp, I had the fire department help me evacuate. Lauren and Stephen were brilliant, really stepped up and I had no idea where you had gone, but I was too busy fighting with the Bergatrollet Police. They wanted everyone moved to the dead quarter, not the places we had agreed in the city. Things went south and the camp split. Us three took as many as would agree out to Padurjate and the rest went into the city.” Darius explained, some disdain in his voice as he looked over at Miranda and Robert. 

“By the time we reached the TerraSave camp there, the city was dark, and things were chaos. The camp had been ransacked and people where panicking, we collected few survivors and made it back here before the storm got too bad. We heard from a few survivors about Bergatrollet. We could see some kind of light in the distance, figured that was the city burning. We got up first light and went to the power substation about a mile up the road. Whole thing was on standby, Stephen’s taken classes in electrical engineering and was able to make some sense of it. System said that power demand had slumped dramatically but the Melna Upe plant is still running at peak wattage. Essentially if the system didn’t shut down, a surge would blow out the grid for this part of the Valley. I figured—"

“It was the BSAA cunt.” Robert interrupted Darius as Claire flashed him a devastating glare that stopped him in his tracks. There was a silence that hung in the wind as Darius looked back at Claire, confused. Miranda was holding Lauren in a gentle hug, Stephen standing behind Robert as Megan, Moira and Orla shuffled closer to Claire’s side.

“I don’t know what—”

“Robert’s still a little emotional after his brother was killed doing something monumentally stupid.” Claire shot, spitting venom as she continued her glare at Robert. “Jill Valentine, head of the BSAA mission, came and pulled Moira and I out of the camp. She told me about the infection that wiped out the BSAA mission. She was trying to enact their most extreme containment protocol, calls for a Racoon City type solution.” Claire’s tone softened as she turned back to Darius, his face draining of color as the thought dawned on him.

“It was intentional?” Darius’ voice came out hoarse as Claire nodded.

“I tried to stop her, even though she was trying to contain things, I didn’t, couldn’t see that being the only option. Quintin was killed when they started shooting at her, didn’t give me a chance to try and talk her down. I was eventually able to get her to surrender.” Claire sighed, feeling Robert’s anger build despite his silence.

“Where is she now?”

“Back of the truck. I wasn’t going to leave her and I—” Claire paused, her confidence wavering, “I think she can help, I just need to convince her to refocus. She’s a fighter, she comes at things from that perspective.”

“Claire—” Darius spoke cautiously, “I don’t know if that’s the wisest thing to do.”

“Well then what great idea do you have!” Claire snapped, Darius raising his hands and furrowing his brow.

“Whoa, back down, I wasn’t suggesting anything radical. Let’s try and talk to her and go from there.” Darius corrected as Claire nodded. They both moved to the back of the truck, Moira opening the canvas for them. 

“Where is she?” Darius asked the obvious question as Claire stared silently at the empty truck. On the ground where several snapped zip ties and crude map drawn into the dust. There was a circle around a small lightning bolt symbol.

“Fuck— everyone in the truck!” Claire swore the shouted, her heart racing as she ran out to get into the driver’s seat. “I think she’s going to try and destroy the substation.”

Jill dismounted the motorcycle she had stolen from the edge of the village, stepping towards a unassuming concrete building. Next to it was a large fence in maze of steel and cables. The power substation hummed with latent power as Jill tried the door, feeling the lock rattle weakly in the door. She gave it a hard shove with her shoulder, the door frame cracking as the door was forced open.

Jill had been half asleep in the truck, feeling it lurch when stopped. She focused on what was being said outside, picking up the piece about the power grid on standby. The back up plan, the bunker, she needed to take out as many pieces of power infrastructure as possible for it to work. She had broken free, snuck out the side, put a hole in the gas tank and run off. 

Jill stopped her search in front of the station controls; simple, labeled dials with Russian writing. Jill immediately began canceling the standby protocol to bring the station online. The quality of the air changed as the station began to surge, Jill canceling alarms. The station was beyond saving, Jill stepping back towards the door, stepping out into the parking lot as a grey army truck screeched to a stop. Jill held her hands up in a half-committed surrender as Claire, Darius, Robert and the rest of the TerraSave survivors confronted her.

“Hey Claire.” Jill smirked, Claire holding her pistol ready but not aimed at Jill.

“What did you do.” Claire spat, Moira standing to her right, Megan to her left. Jill shrugged, lifted three fingers on her left hand, silently dropping down to two, then one. There was an eruption of sparks from one of the transformers, a scraping, screaming hum as a bolt of electricity arced between it and another transformer. Both burst into flame as sparks showered down from the maze of wires within the fence. Black smoke began to rise behind Jill as she held eye contact with Claire. Before Claire could speak, covering her eyes from the fire behind Jill, there was a distant screech. The sound shuddered int Jill’s bones, the same sound that the first molded soldier had made as he turned.

“You know what those are?” Jill questioned as Claire whirled back on her.

“The outbreak from Bergatrollet, it spread out this way.” Claire returned as there was a nervous mumbling from her group.

“Good, you haven’t lost sight of all reason. Sounds like more than one.” Jill taunted as another screech echoed through the trees.

“Everyone back in the truck now, Orla, restrain her with something.” Claire commanded as Orla looked at Jill and back at Claire.

“With what?” 

“Anything! Lets go!” Claire shouted, the group piling back into the truck, Megan and Moira guiding Jill to the back, Jill putting up no resistance. “We’re going to head north, take a long way around so we don’t bring that horde back to the village.” Claire rasped as she turned the truck on, Darius taking the passenger seat. They sped for nearly a mile along the north road, passing a small collection of buildings; shops, a gas station, café and a restaurant. The truck sputtered, shook and suddenly died. Claire tried to start it with no luck.

“Fuck!” Claire punched the dash before jumping down.

“Why the hell did we stop? I can still hear the screaming!” Miranda called up to Claire as the rest of the members dismounted. Jill was flanked by Megan and Robert as Moira walked along the side of the truck, cigarette in hand. She was staring at the ground, flicking the nearly spent butt to the road. A small flame licked up and spread in a line for a couple feet before snuffing out in the cold mountain air.

“We were leaking fuel.” Moira reported flatly, all eyes turning to Claire.

“To the café, now, we can look for something as soon as we figure out where those infected are going, maybe they’ll pass us by.” Claire posed, leading the group off towards the small corner building at the intersection they just past. Claire opened the door easily, Miranda. Lauren and Stephen immediately grabbing the tables and chairs to barricade the windows.

“Didn’t top off before running after me?” Jill asked with a dark mirth in her voice. Robert angrily pushed Jill to her knees, Jill grunting and glowering up at Claire. Claire tossed Robert a look that screamed “back off” before turning her attention back to Jill.

“You did this?”

“Starting to get a theme here?” Jill spat, she had all the power despite being on her knees, hands bound in front of Claire.

“We should have killed her at the damn factory, for all those people she burned.” Miranda grumbled as she passed Claire with a chair in her arms.

“We should kill her now! She’s dangerous and proving she’s only going to keep hurting our chances at surviving this!” Robert shouted, Claire gripping her pistol tighter.

“Back the fuck down, Jeffries, Claire’s still in charge.” Moira spat before Claire could speak.

“Hmm, she is isn’t she?” Jill mused, adjusting her stance on her knees. “Rough go Claire, especially when I gave you an out. This is, in many ways, your choice. I could have had this fucking thing taken care of.”

“Your bombs didn’t all go off, that was you, not me.” Claire spat back as Jill’s brow furrowed.

“You making yourself feel better about it all by letting dick for brains over their mouth off at avenging his do nothing brother?” Jill growled; Moira forced to step on Robert as he took a step towards Jill.

“Shut your fucking mouth, don’t speak unless you’re gonna have something useful to say.” Claire snapped as Jill smirked, leaning back and keeping her gaze on Claire.

“I have one thing.” Jill shrugged, Claire stepping closer to Jill, the room falling silent as everyone stopped their barricading. “You shouldn’t use bungie cords as restraints.”

In an instant Jill was moving, her charge catching Claire below the belt and lifting her off her feet. Moira’s feet were swept out from under her, Jill’s fist connected with Robert’s jaw, Claire felt her pistol wrenched from her grip. There where two gunshots and Claire heard glass shatter. She hit cold, hard ground, hearing Megan and Lauren yelling something as another gunshot rang out.

“Put it the fuck down Robert! Do you want to go out and wave to the damn zombies too?” Darius shouted as Claire got her bearings. Jill had slung Claire onto her shoulder, made quick work of the TerraSave resistance before smashing through one of the large café windows, leaving Claire in the snow before she took off. Moira was by her side in and instant, helping Claire to her feet.

“Everything still attached?” Moira asked softly, Megan walking up to her side, nursing a bleeding lip and limping a little.

“She’s fucking _fast_.” Megan spat blood into the snow, Claire taking a deep breath, the collision with Jill leaving her winded.

“Yeah.” Claire groaned, Moira slipping and arm under her for support, Orla running up to help. “Everyone ok? I heard gunshots while getting tossed around.” 

“Yeah, Valentine shot her way through the window with your gun, Robert shot after her once before Darius thought better of it, since we’re trying not to get overrun with infected.” Lauren spoke up, the small group walking Claire back into the café. Miranda had taken Robert’s rifle, Darius still chastising him as Stephen paced looking confused and apprehensive.

“Everyone catch your breath, she’s gone for now. We need to find a working vehicle around here, get moving and lead that group of infected farther from the village. Lets go.” Claire inhaled sharply, a stabbing pain still present in her abdomen as she commanded the group.

Jill was exhausted, nearly a day of hiking at a light jogging pace had brought her back to the missile base, the sun now dipping below the edge of the mountains. She made her way through the office catacombs, pistol in hand as she found the elevator as she had left it, descending to the residence of the Umbrella bunker and approaching the table she had set up as her workstation. She crossed out the power substation for Mannelig Village and sighed.

“That’s one down. A few more to go.” Jill huffed, looking at the other marked substations throughout the valley. A symbol to the east caught her eye and shudder rand down her spine.

“Hadn’t really considered if there were more spores.” Jill muttered, running her hand over the map. “That’s where I’d smuggle them through.”


	9. Relinquishment of Logic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill tries to regroup and come up with a plan to contain the mutamycene after the failure at Bergatrollet. Claire faces a collapse of her TerraSave mission, left with only a small team and a last ditch effort to create an escape for themselves and the survivors throughout the Valley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of an intermediate chapter but some rough moments for Claire. First command! and it is not going well for our soft butch biker girl turned aide worker and zombie fighter. Jill is quietly regrouping and struggling, facing an impending doom of having to enact a larger scale Gehenna protocol.
> 
> "In The Shadows" By Amy Stroup. This has a lovely foreboding tone that really fits this chapter, things are spooling up to something bigger than the fall of Bergatrollet.

_“Fear is the relinquishment of logic,  
The willing relinquishment of reasonable patterns.  
We yield to it or we fight it,  
But we cannot meet it halfway.”  
-Steven Crain _

It took Claire and her troop of survivors nearly a day to circle around, taking side roads to avoid leading any infected to the village. The had found two cars left abandoned in a small market near the café, Lauren hotwiring them. They pulled into the makeshift TerraSave camp as dawn was breaking, some of the refugees and Padurjate aid workers coming out at the sound of the cars’ motors.

“I need like four hours of sleep and then we can figure out our next move.” Claire spat, her legs feeling weak as she stepped out onto the dry snow, the ground crunching loudly under her boots as Darius and Moira followed close.

“Any ideas or hoping to sleep on it.” Darius posed as Moira scoffed, her lighter clicking as she lit a cigarette held in her mouth.

“Darius, I just need four hours rest.” Claire sighed, turning past the refugee tents and moving towards the aide workers’ section of the camp.

“We need to acknowledge the problem Valentine poses.” Darius insisted as Claire grabbed the green flap of an empty tent, TerraSave logo stamped onto the canvas.

“No one knows that better than me.” Claire huffed, casting a resentful glare at Darius. “Set a watch, you take first shift.” Claire ordered, letting the tent close behind her. Moira pulled hard on her cigarette before throwing the butt into the snow with a sudden and soft hiss.

“Better get going Branagh.” Moira taunted with a flat tone, entering the tent after Claire.

Claire jerked suddenly as she felt someone grabbing her shoulder. She rolled over and grabbed the wrist before realizing it was Moira waking her.

“Christ Claire, calm down.” Moira hissed as she winced with the sudden twist of her arm. “It’s just me.”

“I’m sorry.” Claire sighed, taking a deep breath as she sat up, gripping the sides of the cot. “Been four hours?”

“Four and half, I got everyone together in one of the big tents. They have a map of the valley and some other key pieces of information salvaged from the Padurjate camp. I figured you could use the extra rest.” Moira shrugged, pacing a small circle as Claire’s lips broke into a slight smile.

“Thank you.” Claire muttered as Moira paused, looking down at Claire before smiling herself. Moira sat down next to her, leaning her head on Claire’s shoulder.

“What the fuck are we gonna do here boss?” Moira sighed. As Claire held her hand.

“Find a way to get people away from the infection, get Jill to back down, go home and pig out at my favorite barbeque place.” Claire listed trying to lift her own mood. Moira laughed dryly in response. It died off quickly as Moira bit her lip, fighting back tears.

“What the hell am I going to tell my mom.” Moira whimpered as Claire squeezed her hand a little.

“Your father was a hero. He saved, I don’t know how many people, including you, by stopping an infection from overrunning us.” Claire tried to reassure, taking a deep breath as she felt Moira shudder against her. “That comes later, lets focus on now.” Claire affirmed, standing, coaxing Moira up with her. They exited the tent into a bright, early afternoon sky, rolling whisps of clouds providing rotating shade, a distant storm descending from the eastern mountains in a slow and brutal charge into the Valley. Moira led Claire through the small camp to a large tent set up in the rough center.

Darius and Megan were stood at the end of a folding table; Miranda, Stephen, Orla and Robert sitting around a torn map of Iarna Valea, all picking at bland looking ration packs. 

“Where’s Lauren?” Claire asked as she leant against the edge of the table, Moira taking a seat next to Orla.

“Patrol, should be back in about five.” Darius answered as Claire nodded, fatigue and fear hanging in the air of the tent as the group remained silent for a minute.

“So, we’re in the shit. I’m not going to try and sugar coat that. My goal is what TerraSave’s goal always is; shelter and save as many people as we can. Population centers have fallen apart after Bergatrollet and Padurjate broke down. With power failing across the grid, I wouldn’t be surprised if that continued. That means more infections, more spread.” Claire paused, taking a deep breath. Lauren shuffled in behind her, silently taking a seat as Claire looked from her to the map. “We have to get people out of the Valley. We have to treat it like an exclusion zone until the BSAA can clean it up.”

“How are we even going to begin doing that?” Miranda spoke up, her voice frustrated and defeated.

“Roads are to thin and likely snowed in around the mountains. Quarantine walls are still up and even if we could get to the Bergatrollet airport the weather is shit off and on all winter.” Megan countered, Orla raising her hand nervously.

“Atriebiba Gorod has an airport.” Orla spoke up softly after receiving an affirming gesture from Claire.

“It’s practically on the other side of the Valley so—it’s possible the weather could be clearer.” Robert added as Claire nodded.

“Possible but we can’t count on that. Even if we could get a few small planes running out of that airfield, we have no pilots among us, and the evacuation would be slow.” Claire countered, shaking her head.

“What about the tunnel project? The one near Melna Upe?” Moira asked as she tapped the spot on the map.

“I doubt that project is still running with everything falling apart.” Stephen groused as Moira narrowed her eyes in his direction. “Besides, its months from being finished, right?”

“Finished as in roads and rail, all we would really need is a hole in the mountain. That and I imagine they’re still drilling from the European side.” Megan spoke up as Claire nodded to her. “Probably a month out from that, we could shave off more time if we get our side drilling again.”

“What would we need for that?” Darius posed to Megan as she folded her arms and paced around the table.

“Diesel fuel, and a lot of it, water for the drill slurry and spare parts for the bits and such.” Megan shrugged as she stopped near the corner of the map. “Melna Upe has the power plant, bet they have some diesel reserves for their back up generators and heavy equipment. Water can be pumped from any number of rivers and streams, they probably have tanker trucks too for transport, and as for parts—” Her voice trailed off as she tapped the edge of the map.

“Would Atriebiba Gorod have something like that? It’s kinda the industrial center of Iarna Valea.” Moira spoke up, looking from Megan to Claire.

“Would make sense if the imported project materials came through that airport. I’d be willing to bet anything recent is still sitting in the terminal warehouses.” Claire smiled, feeling hopeful with the developing direction for the team.

“Um, Claire—” Lauren spoke up nervously as she gestured over Claire’s shoulder. Claire turned to see a stocky local man wearing a heavy brown coat waiting patiently.

“You are Ms. Redfield? The one in charge?” the man spoke in low growl masked by a thick local accent.

“I am.” Claire returned, feeling an anxious energy from her team.

“If I could, a moment of your time. A speaker for the village council would like to talk to you.” The man continued, Claire nodding a following him. She made a subtle beckon with her hand and Moira stood, following closely. They stepped off into a sharp wind, Claire adjusting the collar of her coat as they entered a small tent a few hundred feet towards the main road.

“Ah, thank you for your time Ms. Redfield.” A tall and weathered man greeted Claire, not offering his hand in the small shelter. His posture was set back and proud and he stood with the air of someone not staying long.

“You are the council’s representative?” Claire posed as the man nodded, waving his stocky courier away.

“I am and I wish to make this brief.” The speaker began, Moira scowling as she paced behind Claire. “The council, responsible for governing this village, is seeing an incredible crisis with the seeming collapse of our regional government and ongoing infection. Not only can we not afford the additional burden your camp brings, you foreigners seem to be a magnet for the sort of conflict and disease we are trying to avoid. The council is asking for a voluntary exit on your part within the next twenty-four hours. We would like greatly to keep the police out of this.” He finished as Claire’s jaw dropped.

“Y—you’re serious? You want us to just leave?” Claire stumbled through her disbelief.

“Within the next day, yes. I wish you well.” The speaker finished, stepping past Claire as she stood in stunned silence with Moira.

“What do you want to do?” Moira posed, kicking loose snow as Claire folded her arms and exhaled through her teeth.

“We don’t really have a choice. I guess we’ll move people up to Melna Upe? Weather is going to be hell up there but—” Claire let the thought fall as she covered her face and groaned. “Let’s go, we’ll need to get moving soon. We can worry about getting to Atriebiba Gorod after packing up.”

The quiet chatter fell silent amongst the TerraSave team as Claire returned. The group caught her mood instantly and the chill of the Valley air set the room to ice.

“The village has given us a day to pack up and leave. We’re going to move the survivors and aid workers here to Melna Upe and get working on the drilling operation.” Claire declared as there was as stunned silence.

“With winter coming in force and little equipment or resources? That part of the mountains gets brutally cold with the harsher weather. How are we going to keep up a mining operation and care for these people? The refugee numbers will only grow as the infection spreads.” Darius spoke up, firm in his rejection. “We should set up in the lowlands near the southern foothills. We can wait for spring or outside help whichever comes first.”

“This problem can’t be waited out!” Claire spat suddenly, catching Darius off guard. “Infection is spreading and it is deadly. If the outside world finds out, they’ll probably carpet bomb us into oblivion rather than risk an outbreak. The only chance we have at saving anyone is making our own way out and proving there are uninfected survivors. We have the expertise, we’ve been trained for this.” Claire implored, catching a few nods from the group.

“I think the others, the refugees, should have a say.” Darius added, sighing deeply before meeting Claire’s eye.

“Then go ask them Branagh. We don’t have much time.” Claire growled. Darius stood and stepped out as Claire leaned on the table, trying to tamp down her frustration. She bit her lip, opened her mouth to speak and then stopped, looking over the scared and anxious faces looking up at her.

“Get packing, either way, we’re moving soon.”

The process was depressingly quick, beleaguered families putting their half-packed belongings into salvaged suitcases and TerraSave marked backpacks. The convoy of trucks Darius had managed to save from Padurjate were pulled into a line on the main road, TerraSave workers and Claire’s team packing tents, heaters and other equipment into the few empty vehicles. 

“More than three quarters.” Moira muttered, walking up behind Claire as she helped Miranda lift a propane grill into the back of one of the army trucks.

“That’s how many are heading south?” Claire asked as Moira nodded. Claire swore under her breath and set her hands on her hips. They stood in silence as Miranda clattered the grill into place. “Who’s going with us?”

“The crew that escaped Bergatrollet with us, Stephen and Lauren.”

“None of the refugees? We won’t have anyone to evacuate even if we get through the tunnel!” Claire groused as Moira folded her arms and lent against the truck. 

“Darius says he’ll leave us a truck and the Renault we came in. This isn’t personal Claire. The people he helped trust him, there are so many unknowns for them right now and you’re one of them.” Moira tried to explain as Claire held up a hand.

“I know it’s just—I really think this is the best way. If this is the hand we’re dealt though, we’ll play with it.” Claire sighed as Moira nodded, biting her lip and staring at the grey snow cut with tire tracks.

“So, what do we do when our merry band makes it to Melna Upe?”

“Triage the mining operation, split up and I’ll take some of us down to Atriebiba Gorod. With luck, we can go around looking for surviving enclaves of people, untouched villages and hopefully more TerraSave once an opening has been made.” Claire returned, trying to sound convinced of the plan herself.

“What about Jill?” Moira’s voice dropped low as Claire felt her face flush and anger brew in her gut.

“I have a feeling she’ll show up sooner than later.” Claire spat, balling her hands into fists and forcing a deep breath. “Then we try and stop her like we did before, hopefully she will come around.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t go like before.” Moira mumbled as Claire nodded.

“She just needs to see that fighting isn’t the solution to this problem. I have to believe that.” Claire added, voice wavering as Moira straightened and walked over to Claire. Moira looped her arm through Claire’s and the two walked over to the Renault parked farther away from the convoy.

“I hope she comes around too.”

“Thirty-two hundred megawatts, shit this thing could run the Valley.” Jill muttered, looking at the golden numbers in the reactor control room of the bunker. It was producing steady power now, the noise from the turbine hall audible when she walked through the corridors of the lowest level. Umbrella had outfitted the reactor to be almost fully automated, but Jill felt compelled to check up it every few hours. It was something she could see and work; a practical problem with solutions and outcomes. So unlike what she was facing with the mutamycene. 

The lickers in storge hissed at her as she passed them on her way back up to the laboratory levels. She had turned several of them into makeshift horticulture labs, Umbrella having enough samples of staple foods for Jill to begin growing. She had no idea how long she may have to hold out. Another problem she could fix with her hands. She trimmed and watered a series of squash and tomatoes plants in large, broad planters, making her way back to elevator after doing all she could. She always shuddered when passing the lab holding the Master Plaga egg. It was dormant but its presence sinister, like it was watching Jill pace around the empty bunker.

“Try and think, where did the spores come in from. You can’t risk anymore large targets, not until you can guarantee no subsequent outbreaks.” Jill muttered to herself, stepping out of the elevator onto the residential level. She had several tables pulled together hosting a massive map of the Valley. She had marked the major population centers, power grid critical nodes and likely paths of spread from the Bergatrollet outbreak. At the perimeter of this was a wide red circle labeled “Gehenna Protocol Zone”. She increased it slightly, every day, as it threatened to consume the entire Valley.

“There has to be—if I can drop power, scatter the population centers so they aren’t targets, hunt the infection in the wilds I—” Jill leaned over the table and hung her head. She didn’t want to admit it, to look it in the eye. She had failed and the Valley was as good as dead because of it.

“There has to be another way. Winter is coming, people won’t be moving because of the war, because of the cold and the loss of power.” Jill reached, trying to grab something, a course of action that didn’t call for mass destruction. 

“Hopefully mutamycene slows in the cold, most things do, most fungus do, right?” Jill continued, running her hand over the map.

“If it spreads slow, I can contain it with—it doesn’t matter if there are still spores out there, unspent munitions, some just in a warehouse.” Jill countered herself, putting her head down and groaning loudly. The problem had been dogging her for more than a day now. She wanted to break the table in two, she wanted to take the arsenal she had at her disposal and hunt the molded until they where all gone. She wanted to go find Claire, say she was—she wanted to end this, she wanted to sit down and cry.

Jill took a deep breath and scanned the map again, eyes falling on a small airstrip to the south, a region she had been briefed was a Rebel stronghold before the outbreak.

“With Bergatrollet down, best to assume any weapons they had smuggled in came through their airport.” Jill muttered, shifting closer to the town labeled “Atriebiba Gorod”.

“Regional airstrip, mostly freight. We flew most of our heavy equipment in through there, most of TerraSave’s.” Jill continued, searching another stack of papers for a more detailed map of the city, images of the airfield printed from what she had saved on her laptop.

“Those warehouses could easily be some still there. Start here Valentine. Stop the leak then clean up the spill.” Jill affirmed to herself, the rush of having a direction after feeling lost at sea was euphoric. She took note of several power substations along the way, keeping with her strategy to keep population centers thin. She stepped off towards the elevator, coat flowing behind her brisk step, her mind running through the equipment she’d need.

“Shockingly greener down here.” Orla commented, leaning forward from the back seat of the Renault. Moira leaned away in the passenger seat as Orla took in the rolling landscape of the outer edges of Atriebiba Gorod. The Valley was still in early fall this far south, evergreens shedding morning frost in dripping sheets of slurry. A fog rolled down from the mountains as they rounded a corner and caught sight of the city.

It was a small town built on a plateau, artificially carved from a shallow peak in the mountain range, the additional earth pushed to the edges where a long airstrip ran to the edge of the cliffside. The buildings where an eclectic mix of gothic homes and brutalist soviet buildings arranged like a child’s bedroom toy set. As they grew closer, Claire made out the distinct features of a checkpoint across the road leading into the city, armed men patrolling it in local uniforms.

“Ok, everyone relax. We should have no issue since both sides recognized TerraSave as noncombatants.” Claire muttered to the group. Along with Orla and Moira, Robert and Megan had been picked to come with Claire on this excursion. Claire had left Miranda in charge with Stephen and Lauren up north. Having found the mining operation essentially abandoned, they had begun setting up the boring drill with the help of Stephen and Lauren’s expertise. Claire had chosen to take Robert with her rather than let him out of her sight. They came to a stop as one of the sentinals held up a hand, walking over to the driver’s side as Claire rolled down the window.

“State your business.” He asked gruffly in English, already pegging them as foreigners.

“TerraSave aid workers here to look at—”

“Good, the Commissar will want to speak to you. We have heard nothing since the blackouts and the bombing in Bergatrollet.” The sentinel cut Claire off before she could finish. “I will call ahead, drive to the town center, he will be in the council building.” He added as the gate in front of them was lifted.

“That felt far too easy.” Robert spoke up from the back as Claire rolled the car forward into the town.

“I actually agree. Stay alert guys.” Claire grumbled as they turned through the streets of the tight mountain town. Claire easily navigated to the city center, some small foot traffic amongst the shops, patrols of paramilitaries passing them. She grimaced as she saw a preacher standing on the back of a truck, speaking to a small crowed watched anxiously by two soldiers across the street. There was an audible gasp as they rounded into the central square, Claire unsure what to make of what they saw.

Along the main promenade, hung from the streetlamps, where dozens of bodies. Each was hung from the neck, in various states of decomposition with a sign dangling from them. Theft, Disorder, Sedition; crimes written by single word and the sentence all the same as Claire drove by them, her stomach heavy and chest tight.

“So its come to fucking this now?” Moira spat as they pulled up to a monolithic concrete building with an ornate circular plaque set into the eggshell façade. 

“Just—keep calm. I really don’t want to stay here longer than we need too. Let’s try and get permission to look for our parts and get the fuck out of here.” Claire turned to speak to her team after putting the car in park. They all nodded as Claire stepped out, feeling somewhat reassured that they had stashed weapons with the spare tire.

A man in a crisp suit, flanked by two paramilitaries descended the steps for the council building. The group of aid workers coalescing around Claire as they waited for him to reach them.

“Welcome friends, to Atriebiba. I’m so sorry it has to be in such dire times. My sentries informed me that a group of TerraSave aid workers had arrived and requested entry to the city. I am more than happy to host you here, one of the last bastions of order and prosperity in Iarna Valea. I am Vasili Hodimchuk, Commissar for this city.” The man beamed as he held his arms wide in a hospitable gesture.

“Bit of a dated term, isn’t it?” Moira muttered before Claire could stop her.

“I prefer to think of it as classical. Here I represent the executive committee which governs this town as it has since before the outbreak of civil conflict in Iarna Valea. I am responsible for carrying out the will of the people and protecting their wellbeing.” Hodimchuk returned with a smile that seemed extremely well rehearsed.

“Like those hung in the square?” Claire pushed, feeling emboldened by Moira’s statement.

“You seem to be in charge, I’m sure you understand the extreme difficulty in maintaining order during a crisis. We have no recourse here, no allies, no help coming. I must protect what my city has. Even so, I’ve welcomed those who seek refuge here, as long as they conform to our rules. Some have not and have paid the price. We show would dissidents the price of their actions as a deterrent. This will not stop them all, but it keeps most of them in line despite difficulties with the church sowing malcontent.” Hodimchuk explained with a calm that sent a shiver up Claire’s spine.

“We’ve had our issues with zealots too, preaching doom and demons like Volk—”

“Do not utter the name!” one of Hodimchuk’s guards cut Robert off as he spoke up, Claire and Moira whirling on him. Claire glared, before turning to Moira, looking for any glimmer of explanation for the outburst at the mention of the myth.

“Apologies. We have had our issue with some faith groups being at odds within the city. Many people here keep the old religions, the guardian of the valley is venerated, and the name is not to be spoken. The myth states it is to summon their wrath upon you should you speak it during times of misfortune. The Church has a different take of course and that has caused—friction. We ask you respect our customs while staying in our city.” Hodimchuk took a deep breath before speaking, keeping his politician face warm and smiling. “Now, as to your purpose here.”

“Supplies. Supposedly there was a shipment for TerraSave that was supposed to come through just after everything, well went to shit.” Claire lied, carefully playing the roll. Enough here was off that she decided keeping her cards close was the best option.

“By air or by the river barges?”

“By air, should still be in the warehouses by the airstrip.” Claire explained as Hodimchuk sighed.

“I’m sure you understand, the airfield is restricted and most supplies there are critical to our security and wellbeing. I’ve commandeered all medicines, foods and fuels present for the people of Atriebiba and that may include your property as well. I’m sure you understand.” Hodimchuk offered with a dark smile.

“Of course. If you would allow us, could we see what is available. With an escort of course, anything you deem too important to your people, I’m sure we can make sure needs are met as well as ours.” Claire offered, Hodimchuk nodding.

“That sounds reasonable. I will arrange for an escort tomorrow. For now, I’m sure you need rest and a warm meal. My chief of staff shall find you lodging and see to your other needs. Enjoy your stay.” Hodimchuk finished, he turned and motioned to one of the guards who ran head into the building to grab the chief of staff. 

“What’s the play Redfield?” Robert whispered after the Commissar was out of earshot.

“We go tomorrow, there’s likely at least one crate of MRE’s or something with our stamp on it. We case out the place, figure out where the drill equipment is. Return at night and be gone before dawn.” Claire returned, Moira, Orla and Megan nodding along as Claire looked up to see another sharply dressed politician emerge from the building.

“TerraSave? You will be lodging in two rooms of the Atriebiba Grand Hotel across the thoroughfare.” The man boomed in a deep accent that fell through his throat as he talked. He gestured to a six-story building overlooking the large central park that the boulevard circled. “The concierge is expecting you. Please follow all directives and I shall call upon you tomorrow to head to the airfield. Enjoy your stay.”


	10. The River Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill prepares to take out any remaining spore cannisters in the Valley. She does this to delay facing the inevitable truth that the only way to stop the outbreak will be the Gehenna Protocol.
> 
> Claire and TerraSave wake to see the destruction left by Jill as she flees, unwittingly leading the town's militia to associate them together. Jill escapes and Claire and Moira are held for execution, forcing Jill to take extreme action to fix a situation that is of her own making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my long awaited moments, setting up for one of my two favorite scenes in the draft! I hope you all enjoy Jill and Claire's brief and longing moment together, literally running into each other as another city goes up in flame and panic.
> 
> "An Ocean Away" By White Moth Black Butterfly. For the scene with Jill and Claire together in the alley, the minute that lasted hours for our two sad women
> 
> "Dark Matter" By Les Friction. This song is for Jill's laboratory scene. The lead up as she considers and when she takes decisive action, heading down to the quarantined storage level and planning her next move. I love the gothic aesthetic and the extremes of this song capture the moment flawlessly.
> 
> "How Villains Are Made" By Madalen Duke. Not a singular scene for this one, but after the final scene, between this chapter and the next, this song capture the vibe of Jill's thoughts as she heads back to rescue Claire.

_“This is the weakness of weapons.  
They are tools to kill and destroy.  
They are not what gives you power.  
You are the weapon.  
You are the killer and destroyer.”  
-Quellcrist Falconer. _

There was a thin river that spilled from the northern mountains of Iarna Valea, near the old uranium mines and Soviet Military base. Its tributaries cut deep gorges through the rock, some dammed into deep pools from landslides. Others, with age, cut through no matter what the peaks tossed down to them. There were the bones of rusted mining equipment, flattened due to the sudden stop of their grim ride down.

The trickles came together in the steep woodlands carving south. The crystal water grew murkier as life took hold in the rich minerals of mountain snow melt and hidden wellsprings. Along the center of the Valley, land flattened into a deep floodplain. Lumber and barges where common sights during normal times, the river gifting fish, drinking water and commerce to the surrounding villages. It was the main source of income for the city of Atriebiba Gorod for centuries before air travel came to Iarna Valea in the nineteen forties. Still, river traffic flowed to the city, who even had been given its name from the Atriebiba River.

The former occupants of Jill’s new home had a host of hardware left behind, some derelict, some rotted. One such entity was a tired old Centaur patrol boat, streaks of rust painting a dismal pattern over the weathered white hull. The engine had turned over, albeit with a trade of some spare parts from two, less than fortunate river boats half sunk into the frigid mountain stream. Jill had made sense of the controls and Russian labels with a few minutes study and a little trial and error. Within a few hours she had made it to the edge of Atriebiba Gorod. She set the boat’s rust encrusted anchor into the water and waited in a shrouded wetland of the floodplain. 

It was nightfall before Jill felt the time pass, spending the time within the pilot house, prepping several satchels of high explosives, unsure how much she would need. The gentle waters made it simple, the river was tame and low, little run off from the mountains in this season. With night falling over the river lands, the plateau of Atriebiba Gorod glowed a lazy orange and the banks of the river were pitch black. Jill coaxed the engine to a low idle and drew close to the dock yards near the base of the sleeping acropolis above. Jill moored at the docks without issue, a roadblock near the business route leading into the city catching her eye.

“Ok, easy and quiet. You have all night. Don’t rush this.” Jill muttered to herself as she screwed a suppressor onto the barrel of her handgun before packing her thick explosive satchels into a large backpack. She stiffened the hem of her dark gloves, rolled her shoulders to adjust her heavy coat and pulled a black scarf over her mouth and nose. She had painted her eyes, cheeks and forehead black with a makeshift camouflage made from charcoal, the job imperfect but effective. She stepped off the boat and walked around one of the small storehouses, weapon in hand.

“Guess security is focused on the town, should make this easy enough.” Jill whispered, looking up at the night sky and getting her bearings. She turned to the section of the hill to the north east, the airfield would be visible above the rise. Jill judged a path through side streets of the sleeping residences, a security fence or two in her way but no roadblocks. She took a deep breath and took off.

The leather hem of her coat fluttered softly, punctuated by the steady thud of her boots. Jill rarely got the chance to run like this anymore, it was freeing if fleeting. She had hated the enhancements at first, it was a deep violation of her very self, repurposing her body to serve another’s whim to serve as a weapon. She despised the things she broke, the look in the mirror, the way her muscles seemed to push back at her when she tried to curl up and rest—or cry. Each little tick of her new body was a reminder of a very raw and very real trauma which no amount of rehab was going to rid her of. Despite that, Jill had forced herself to find any silver lining where there could be. She could put Chris down in a sparring match like he was a trainee, she felt cold mountain air whipping through her loose hair as she sprinted, leapt and vaulted over a seven-foot security fence in two strides, and the way Claire had looked at her—

That smile faded as soon as the most recent image of the younger Redfield’s face entered Jill’s mind. Glaring, contempt and betrayal behind her sharp blue eyes. A grim determination written over her freckled cheeks and a deep hurt covering her whole posture, the lines of her mouth alluding to a pain she didn’t have the luxury of feeling in front of her aid team. People needed her to be strong, but Claire had needed Jill to be strong and Jill had failed her. Jill clipped the edge of a dumpster as she rounded a corner, mind elsewhere. She tumbled with a loud grunt, instinctually carrying her momentum into a roll and coming upright as her right shoulder crashed into a solid brick wall. She paused and caught her breath, forcing Claire’s painful look out of her head, welcoming the physical pain overtaking the shame.

Jill stood after a deep breath, taking off again into the reticent, winding streets of the hillside neighborhood of Atriebiba Gorod.

With the exception of an easily avoided patrol, the route to the airfield was clear. Most of the flood lights and runway guides were out due to the continuing power issues throughout the Valley and Jill took advantage of the shadow. The warehouses were near the terminal, at the far end of the airstrip, well into the plateau. The eclectic architecture cast a shuffle of different shadows, light traffic picking up as Jill ran along the inside of the airport’s fence.

“Militia seems to be pretty active.” Jill muttered, catching glimpses of armed patrols and light vehicles traversing the streets. She caught sight of a large central green, mustered troops, tents and vehicles in the entertainment district that was still active, even now with the rolling blackouts and collapse of central government. The view was gone in an instant as Jill kept up her pace, buildings rushing by her as she pushed her body further. This needed to be done quickly.

Jill reached a culvert at the edge of a service road running along the first warehouse. A low motor sounded as a small truck drove by, Jill ducking into the muck of the drain as it passed over her. She felt the soil vibrate around her as it moved on, Jill catching the glow of its taillights as she emerged. Single cab, three soldiers sitting on the sides of the bed, all looking forward. Jill leapt onto the road and bolted to a side entrance to the warehouse. She threw it open and ran directly into a patrolling militia man. He began to shout, little more than an inhale to yell sounding before Jill wrapped her hand around his throat and hurled him to the concrete floor. He groaned in pain, a small spatter of blood shooting from his broken nose as Jill put her knee into his back. She didn’t give him a second to consider sounding the alarm before she grabbed the sides of his head and snapped his neck with a decisive crunching sound. The crack of bone and cartilage echoed off the corrugated steel walls of the silent warehouse.

Jill sighed, recentering her breathing as she stood, the man’s grunt faded into a hollow exhale, the weight of his body pushing his lifeless lungs empty. Jill lifted the corpse and tossed it over her shoulder, stepping off through a tight row of high shelves. She found a series of soil or fertilizer pallets, shadows consuming the area behind them. Jill stashed the corpse behind, satisfied with how hidden it was and moved on.

Jill kept an eye on the different kinds of freight as she moved through each section of the building. The report DSO had managed to send her before the Valley went dark had mentioned a few methods of transport obvious enough that Jill could narrow it down. She passed stacks of rations, stored foodstuffs, farming supply, mining equipment and dozens of other industrial imports. They were stacked to the ceiling, an occasional ladder offering reach to the higher hidden goods. After nearly half and hour of searching, Jill felt she was getting warmer; gases and pressurized liquids stored in locked cages along one of the walls in the back of the warehouse.

“They said—nitrogen, good.” Jill mumbled in a hushed voice as she scanned the cannister labels with a small flashlight. The checkered shadow of the cage danced over a rack of pressurized nitrogen cannisters, Jill wedging the light into the links of steel. She knelt and began to pick the simple padlock keeping the gate closed. It took seconds before Jill was able to swing the storage bay open. She ran her gloved fingers over the cold metal and chipped paint of the cannisters, selecting one and sliding it from the rack. The labels were painted on and Jill squinted at an odd pattern in the center of the container. The streaks of rust and fading in the paint didn’t line up. Jill grabbed the tip of the container and twisted with a hard motion. The cannister resisted, before the threading slipped and Jill was able to unscrew it to reveal its false center.

“There you are you son of a bitch.” Jill hissed as she gripped a small, black container with a red biohazard symbol and silver barcode. She sealed the container, retrieved her flashlight and closed the storage gate. She continued down the row, making a note of each cage containing nitrogen cannisters. Jill stopped short when she reached a pile of white substance, like coarse sand. Jill followed the spill to a large nylon storage bag. The weave was worn, tearing in some places as the contents spilled out onto the floor. It had poured into a small pool of water, veins of ice spreading from the slurry formed from the mixture.

“Ammonium nitrate. Fuck, this is not how you’re supposed to store this shit.” Jill muttered as she walked down a row lined with heavy bags of the volatile material. Jill kept walking, cutting into the tight rows of shelving, searching labels and shelving marks. She smirked, finding what she was looking for in a series of pallets with plastic containers. 

“Should make it look like a simple accident, poor storage. Fire should immolate any biohazard and the explosion with make sure.” Jill spoke to herself as she grabbed a five-gallon bucket of acetone from the shelf. She pulled off the lid and gasped at the smell, turning her head before she kicked the bucket over onto the floor. The clear liquid spread quickly with a wet slap as it hit the cold concrete all at once. Jill pulled a lighter from her coat pocket, flicking the flame alive and tossing it to the ground. She smiled under the scarf covering her face as walked away, her shadow rising amongst a sudden orange glow behind her as she made quickly for the nearest exit. Things were popping and crackling behind her, one loud crash as something fell by the time she was leaving the building. 

Jill turned to look at the low looming warehouse, it’s curved roof already starting to seep black smoke as light flickered from high windows. Jill took off between two smaller buildings, pausing as she heard shouting. She pulled tight to the shadow of a small office near a motor pool of forklifts and airport vehicles. Half a dozen men came running up the main road, frantic conversations in broken Russian and another Slavic language Jill couldn’t fully make out. She looked up at the warehouse, now a comfortable distance off. An orange plume of flame had broken through the thin roof, dancing like a giant roman candle. It fluttered in the mountain wind, belching black smoke as the fire burned hotter, spreading to any chemical stored there that could catch.

“Had to be a couple tons in there, the explosion will level the place, better keep moving.” Jill whispered to herself. She inhaled sharply and took off towards the town again. She rounded a sentry post near where a short bridge connected the town to the airport, a small gouge in the earth playing host to a thin stream. She froze as the door to the post opened and a stunned guard looked her in the eye. He yelled something in a language Jill didn’t grasp fast enough. She hit him hard in the throat, reducing the alarm to a frightened gurgle. Another shout behind Jill as she whipped her pistol from its holster. She stepped behind the stricken guard and raising her weapon over his shoulder. Jill placed her hand over the guard’s face, jamming her thumb hard just behind his ear lobe. He gasped in pain, scrambling to free himself as Jill faced two guards who had heard his cry.

Jill leveled her aim at the guards, not waiting to gauge the standoff. Four rounds left her gun in sudden, soft pops, striking each. They fell to the ground in a loud clatter, Jill wincing as one rifle went off as it hit the road. Jill kicked the struggling sentry’s feet out from underneath him and shot him before he hit the ground. Jill sighed, looking up from the dead sentry, over to the dead militia men that had confronted her.

_“Move.”_ The word came from within Jill’s mind as she snapped back. She turned and bolted into the town, leaving the fire to engulf the warehouse.

Claire’s eyes fluttered awake, groaning as her senses flooded with a dull ache in her stomach. The bruise left from her fight with Jill near Bergatrollet was still healing, but even laying on her back, it hurt. Moira was laying next to her on the small bed in one of two rooms Hodimchuk had gifted the TerraSave delegation during their stay. Megan, Orla and Robert were sharing the larger of the two next door. Moira had curled up next to Claire in her sleep, Claire slowly sliding herself out from the tangle of Moira’s limbs. She kept sleeping as Claire stood from her the end of the bed.

The break was good, a warm bed and the promise of hot breakfast tomorrow morning. They could all pretend things were normal for a moment; almost. Claire paced over to a kitchenette, attached to the small suite, a large window looked over the Atriebiba square. A steady stream of patrols passed every few minutes, occasional taxis and drunken shouts of bar-goers heading home after last call. Claire turned on a hotplate and began filling a small kettle. There was a collection of small tea packets next to it and Claire was hoping one would help settle her mind. She sniffed the wax paper of each, not being able to make out the Cyrillic writing. She settled on one that had hints of mint and herb, tearing it open and setting it in an empty mug. Something flashed brilliantly in the corner of her eye, Claire squinting as she stared down at her tea.

“Who the hell is flashing their high beams this fucking late.” Claire hissed under her breath. She searched the cabinet for sugar, falling back on the floor as the entire building shook violently, a thunderous sound rolling over the town and echoing into the mountains. The window rattled in its frame, something glass fell and broke in the bathroom and dust floated off the hanging light fixtures. 

“What in the flying fuck was that?” Moira stuttered, propped up in bed, suddenly awake as Claire got up off the floor, adjusting her kettle to keep hot water from spilling everywhere.

“No idea, I—” Claire offered, walking to the window. Car alarms were going off, dogs barking in the night as lights slowly came on in windows throughout the city. A pyre, still blooming into the night sky, rose from the north west, over the airfield. Fire was being shot skyward; pieces of flaming debris scattered in all directions. Some streaked in gleaming arcs as they returned to earth, others burning out before sailing to the apex of their paths. A siren started wailing somewhere, any patrols pausing and running off towards the airport.

“Something big just blew up at the airfield. Boots on.” Claire delivered firmly, cutting off the hotplate. She threw her boots on quickly and slung her coat over her black tank top. Moira was ready seconds behind her as they bolted into the hotel corridor. They came out onto the midnight street, a heavy odor of chemical smoke wafting over the city from the fire, dust and small bits of debris floating down to earth in the square.

“Who could have done this?” Moira muttered, clutching her coat around her as the night chill fluttered her mussed hair.

“I can’t say. We need to—I hope this isn’t going to destroy what we came for.” Claire returned, not taking her eye off the fire. She took off across the street, cutting behind a line of restaurants to try and get a better look at the airfield, get an idea of how bad the damage was. Claire yelped as someone collided hard with her. The impact carried her to ground, Claire looking up into the end of a suppressed handgun.

“Claire?” A shocked, low timbre asked, the voice relieved as Claire was hauled to her feet. It took her a minute to recognize Jill in the low light of the alley. Her face was half covered with a running black makeup, now in a broken pattern on her forehead and creating deep shadows around her eyes. Jill holstered her weapon, pulled her scarf from over her mouth and stared into Claire’s eyes for a moment. She kept a firm grip on Claire, pushing her back against the wall of the alley as a patrol ran by, shouting something out of earshot.

Claire was still trying to catch her breath from running into Jill, heart racing as her back was pushed against cold brick. Jill was warm, leaning into her, her hands clutching Claire’s arms while her eyes were locked on the street.

“Jill, what are you doing here?” Claire asked in hoarse voice, Jill snapping her attention back to look at Claire. She was close, the warmth of her breath pushing the chilled air away as it danced over Claire’s cheeks.

“Are you ok?” Jill raised on hand to Claire’s face, running it gently over her cheek.

“Yeah, a little shocked but I’m fine.” Claire returned, closing her eyes as Jill’s gloved hand met her skin. She inhaled deep through her nose, taking in the warmth and comfort of Jill’s presence, trying to make the feeling last as long as it could.

“You’re ok.” Jill huffed, almost laughing, a small smile breaking over her face. “You’re ok.” Jill repeated to herself. Jill took a deep breath, her stoic expression shuttering the moment of relief. “You need to go back inside. Get out of here by dawn and stick to the mountains. Keep safe, please.” Jill ordered more than asked as she leaned her forehead against Claire’s. “I’ll come find you when its over. Stay safe.” 

Jill had bolted before Claire could protest, “Oh hell no, we aren’t doing this.” Claire hissed to herself, running after Jill. 

“Claire! Wait is that—” Moira shouted after Claire as she caught a glimpse of Jill bolt across the street into another alley. 

“Get the car! Now!” Claire shouted, hurling her keys to Moira before taking off towards Jill’s path. She was fast, Claire only keeping up as Jill paused at intersections, choosing her path carefully to avoid the main roads.

“Valentine! Fucking stop! You don’t—shit.” Claire shouted, rationing the rest of her breath to keep up the chase, her chest burning. Jill was quick, weaving between buildings and racing through back alleys. 

“There has to be a checkpoint or something ahead, they had this damn city locked down when we came in.” Claire thought to herself, her heart racing against her chest, the sound of her heavy breathing filling her ears as she kept her focus on Jill. She owed her so much more than passing comments making sure Claire was simply alive.

Claire’s hunch was right, Jill turned out onto a main road, concrete barriers blocking all side streets with a simple checkpoint manned by three militia sentries. Claire paused, her boots skidding in the ice as the guards shouted, raising their rifles at Jill. Claire screamed as they fired, Jill leaping into the air. She tucked her arms in as she twisted, her momentum carrying her forward, the bullets passing underneath her as she spun. She pulled her knife from her belt with her left hand and drew her pistol with her right. As she inverted, she held her arms out, hurling the blade at the nearest guard. In an instant, it buried itself in his throat and Jill landed on him. She crouched low, taking the force of her landing as the guard fell dead. In another instant Jill had retrieved her blade and fired her pistol once into each guard. A puff of red launched from each exit wound in the back of their throats.

Claire hardly had a moment to process before Jill was off running again, the whole maneuver taking seconds. Claire was stunned, staring at the bodies, not noticing the coming car until it squealed to a halt next to her.

“Get in loser, she can’t be that far ahead.” Moira shouted from the driver’s seat of the Renault. Claire shook herself back to the moment, running over to the passenger side, Moira taking off before Claire had closed the door. She plowed through the flimsy barricade, Claire catching sight of Jill, still running as the city began to panic. First the explosion, now gunfire in the streets. The town was waking up to fire and alarms and had no way of making sense of it. Some were out, trying to flee, trying to get a look at the fire at the airport. Others seeking the militia, demanding answers.

They caught up to Jill quickly, despite the growing chaos, cars now heading in both directions with no regard to traffic law the raw panic of the moment. Jill caught a glimpse over her shoulder, running up to a man starting up a motorcycle in a frantic manner. It turned over and Jill was on him, hauling him off the bike and throwing it into gear. She was off in an instant, Moira hitting the accelerator to try and keep pace. Jill made the most of the panic, weaving in and out of traffic, running on the sidewalk and pulling hard turns down tight side streets to try and lose her tail. Moira kept as close as she could, dodging spooked motorists and pedestrians fleeing Jill’s off-roading.

“We’re almost at the edge of the city, she’s heading to the dockyards I think, she’ll be cornered.” Claire thought out loud as the city streets gave way to a four-lane road pitching downward from the plateau. Moira took advantage, gaining a little ground as Jill glanced back at them.

“What the fuck is she doing!” Moira screamed, swerving as Jill pointed her weapon towards them. The muzzle flashed three times as Moira and Claire ducked. There was a soft plinking sound as the rounds struck something metallic. Claire glanced at Moira as the car shuddered. A loud hiss, rushing air, a concussive thump and then rumbling against the road as the car listed. Moira lost control as the small SUV spun out, a string of expletives filling the cabin as Claire braced against the door. The momentum almost tossed her from her seat as Moira pulled the hand brake, the car coming to a rough stop.

“Shot out our tire.” Moira mumbled after a deep breath. Claire nodded, unbuckling her belt.

“She’s supposed to be a professional right? I don’t think she was trying to hurt us, just stop us.” Claire supposed, more for her own benefit than for Moira’s. She was out of the car in a second taking off towards the docks.

“We’re going to have company soon.” Moira worried, looking a couple miles up the road, a small convoy of trucks leaving the city, following the path of their chase.

“We need to reach Jill first, let’s be quick.” Claire returned, taking off in a hard run despite the tightness of her chest and whine of sore muscles.

Jill dismounted the stolen motorcycle and let it clatter hard to the ground. Her pace was brisk and deliberate, her boat still bobbing gently in the wide river waters. She dropped her magazine, displeased with the count and swapped it for a fresh one. She had to be quick. Claire was persistent if anything and Jill had literally lit the city on fire. The provisional government would be looking for someone to blame and Claire’s proximity to Jill could be a smoking gun she couldn’t risk. This was a clean mission, all up until TerraSave came in again.

“What was she even doing here? This was the separatists’ hub, their Bergatrollet. Only things here were the largest concentration of Christian missionaries that hadn’t been run out of the country and—” Jill’s thoughts paused as she held a mooring rope in her hands. 

“The airport. The warehouses. They must be here for supplies.” Jill muttered, breath forming a small cloud as she shuddered. “Faster.”

Jill started up the engine, stepping out from the pilot house and pushing off the dock with her foot. She turned back to the small enclosure when she heard the voice she had been dreading.

“Jill!” Claire’s words carried far over the still night of the docks. “Jill fucking Valentine!” Her voice was laced with anger, fatigue and hurt as Jill inhaled deeply and turned to face Claire. She was running up to the dock, Jill’s craft already too far for Claire to make any meaningful attempt to stop her. 

Claire ran up to the edge and stared at Jill, eyes holding the mutual stare as Jill’s boat began to pick up speed. Jill could hardly bear it, Claire was crying, eyes pleading for explanation. She didn’t notice as three army trucks pulled up behind her, several soldiers spilling out and running towards her.

“Claire!” Jill shouted in warning, but it was too late, the soldiers set upon Claire and Moira, some shouting as both were seized, cuffed and put on their knees. Jill looked on, wanting to turn around, needing to do something and feeling helpless. Claire looked up, anger back into her face as she watched Jill. A soldier raised his rifle towards the figure on the boat, Claire noticing while Jill watched transfixed, lost in her desire to do something. It clicked in Claire’s mind before Jill could see the danger.

“No!” Claire howled, throwing herself into the soldier. His rifle cracked and he tumbled into the river as three more militia men pinned Claire to the ground. The round slammed into Jill’s shoulder, knocking her to the deck. All her nerves went numb as adrenaline flooded into her bloodstream. Jill rolled onto her back and groaned as the pain set in, looking up at the splatter of her own blood on the grey paint of the pilot house.

“Through and through at least.” Jill muttered through gritted teeth, forcing herself up on one knee. She saw Claire tackled to the ground, a soldier in the river being helped up by his comrades. “I didn’t even—after everything you still would take a risk like that for me.” Jill spoke low, breathless from the increasing throb of pain from her wound. Everything in her wanted to turn the boat around, repay the gesture. She knew better. She needed to plan or just end up another heroic death in the Valley.

Claire looked up as her cell door clanged open, Moira shoved inside. She swore under her breath as the heavy steel door was slammed behind her. The cell was dingy, dark, more of a closet with bars than any real prison.

“What’d they want?” Claire asked softly from where she was sitting.

“They wanted me to confess to being a ‘foreign agitator’. They said we were the ones responsible for the airport. Said it’s just like Bergatrollet, and that we were in league with Jill. They won’t say her name though. They keep referring to her as a word I don’t recognize.” Moira shuddered as she tried to find a comfortable spot on the thin mattress. It creaked and groaned, the weak frame threatening to collapse under Moira’s slight build. “They also asked if we were in league with the church. Apparently there has been a lot of tension with them lately, they have a group the called the Jericho Guard. Basically, a faith militia that have turned the cathedral to the west into a small fortress. They’ve been trying to horde supplies, preaching in the square, fomenting fear and unrest, the kinda bullshit we were seeing in camp before—” Moira trailed off as Claire nodded.

“They’re trying to tie us to one of the other threats they’ve been dealing with. They need someone to blame and we—” Claire stopped and hung her head. Her knees were drawn up tight, her arms resting on top of them as she hid her face from Moira. 

“I’m sorry.” Claire sobbed after a long silence, Moira leaving the bed and sitting next to Claire on the floor. “If I hadn’t, Jill’s shot and we’re facing the noose by a kangaroo court of xenophobic militants. I don’t even know what’s happened to Megan, Orla and Robert.” Claire was openly crying, wiping her eyes as Moira held her.

“We’ve been in tougher spots before. I saw Jill get up, she’s superhuman so a bullet won’t stop her. The others are smart, they’ll keep out of trouble, maybe even get us out before we have to stage a jailbreak. Claire nodded, tapping Moira’s hand as she sniffled.

“Ok, I’ll—they do intend to kill us though, don’t they.” Claire’s breath was wavering and voice unsteady, trying to reclaim her confident demeanor piece by piece.

“I think, they at least want to do a show trial. We have a little time to plan our way out.” Moira reassured. She bit her lip as the room hung quiet for a moment. “I—there was something else.” Moira added after a silence, Claire looking over at her as Moira considered her words carefully.

“The guard who brought me from the interrogation room. He said something that stuck with me. He said, when no one could hear, ‘you are a fool, even those who serve Volkiidu will die by her hand. You are not safe, and all know it’.”

Jill hissed, groaning loudly as the needle sank deeper than she had meant to send it. The morphine overtook it quickly, her hands shaking still. She hurled the empty syringe across the room, tapping the gauze over her wound. The air was cold on her bare skin as she stood, testing the range of motion of her arm. Despite the pain, her mind was still in Atriebiba Gorod.

_“You were almost killed. The Valley would become overrun, the BSAA would have no idea. This part of Europe could become overrun with molded. Fuck, we could lose most of the continent.”_ Jill’s mind was listing the threats to her mission. The gunshot had reminded her how fragile her position was. The enhanced healing, a bi product of so much experimentation and forced additions to her body by Tricell and Wesker, were hard at work closing her wounds. The process made it actually hurt worse, but that wasn’t what left Jill reeling now.

“You made a promise. You can do both.” Jill muttered to no one as she paced around the residential level of the bunker, darkness creeping around the edge of her thoughts.

_“You can’t take on an army for one person. No matter who she is to you.”_

“I have to, that bullet probably would have hit my heart. They’re gonna kill her. They’re going to kill her because of me, because they’ll think she was involved. I saw the bodies on the streetlamps. They’ve killed people for a lot less.” Jill mumbled, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the laboratory level.

_“You have no back up, they have an army. You are good but not that good. You can sneak around and blow things up but a rescue. You don’t have the manpower. You need to focus on your mission, you need to stop pretending Gehenna Protocol can be avoided. Start the run down. Start the xenon pit. Get ready to find a way out.”_

“But I do have the manpower, and there is no way out.” Jill answered herself, tears falling down her cheeks now as the elevator opened on the lab level. “Not for me at least.” Jill sighed as she stepped through the clean corridor, stopping in front of the one laboratory she feared. She stepped inside and approached the large steel biohazard enclosure and pressed a button on the control panel. The shell cracked open with a loud hiss, a whir of servos pulling the two halves apart, steam falling out onto the floor. Jill reached inside and grabbed the vial holding the master Plaga egg. She set it in a pneumatic syringe retrieved from one of the lab drawers. It clicked shut and Jill took several deep breaths.

“I can make a way out for her, I can resist it long enough to keep both promises.”

_“There’s no going back from this. Maybe if you got back to the states, if Becca was still alive, you could survive this. It will kill you.”_

“I didn’t promise anyone I’d get out alive. Stop the infection, get Claire home. That’s all. Jill croaked, emptying her lungs in a long, labored exhale through her nose. She pressed the edge of device to her arm and engaged it.

The scream was involuntary, not pain, but terror. She knew this feeling. The egg hatched in seconds and the parasite took hold. It fought her, Jill not fully hearing herself as she knocked a series of lab appliances to the floor. She was still screaming, wrestling her control back. She knew this dance, this fight, and she was stronger. The Plaga gave into her will within five minutes of infection. Jill was sweating, breathing heavily. Her hands were quaking violently, and she was _so_ alert. A constant stream of adrenaline pumping through her veins as her extremely potent immune system went to war with the Plaga. She felt the link to it, the connection over her nervous system, the pathways between her and it joined so that it could try and overtake her mind. Her shoulder felt strange, skin crawling, like she had something stuck to it, like it was blistering. Jill pulled the bandage over her gunshot wound off, astonished to see a soft pink mark where the wound should have been.

“Think that’s gonna win you any favors?” Jill hissed, tossing the bloody bandage to the floor. Rapid healing was good, maybe she could keep it at bay longer if she was periodically wounded? Would it take energy away from the parasite? The thoughts were ones for later, she had places to be. 

Jill felt the connection to the parasite again, a strange subconscious sensation, like being able to find your balance with your eyes closed. She found the link and pushed back hard, if that was the right thing. She wasn’t sure what she was really doing, just that if felt like years past, when she had resisted the device on her chest, when she pushed back against Wesker’s control.

The Plaga reacted, Jill’s chest tightened in a way that sent a wave of panic through her and she doubled over. She vomited suddenly, everything inside her clenched and then—released in a wave of senses she couldn’t describe what she saw.

She smelled everything, touch was—distant and cool and bizarre. She had claws and teeth, hunger and every whir and hum in the bunker was distinct and loud. It took her several moments to find herself in the flood of new feelings, rooting herself in her body, in the parasitology lab. She stood and breathed deep, the antiseptic air carrying the scent of solutions, minute fragments of dust, a light heat from the lights and running computers, and the blood on her bandage.

She knew she had control, a new switchboard active in her mind, lighting up and awaiting command. It called out from the storage level, Jill stopping to grab her top, her coat and gear before fully descending. She opened the heavy steel door and stepped into the dark level for the first time since the bunker had become her home. The lickers hissed and snarled, heavy claws clacking on the steel floors. Jill walked among them without fear, the bioweapons making room for her, lowering their fleshy heads as Jill passed them. She reached the back of the small warehouse, the destroyed remnants of holding cages littering what she could see in the darkness. 

“Twenty-eight. Leave it to Umbrella to give me a round number of sorts.” Jill muttered, a chorus off chittering grunts echoing return.

_“You’re no different than them now. Just more sophisticated, more expensive.”_

“I know.” Jill mewed to herself, shutting her eyes hard and fighting back tears. “But I don’t matter. We have somewhere to be.”


	11. To Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Moira face a chance to escape only to be stopped by a sudden shift in power. The TerraSave survivors face near certain death as they are punished for Jill's actions as the lone BSAA agent plans her next move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a chapter I have been thinking of for a while, and yes that church scene was a nod to Castlevania ;).
> 
> I really wanted to show this dive that Jill has taken. She despises herself in this scene, she sees herself as a complete failure and that she has become everything she has ever sought to destroy. She has done this to save Claire, to save her from something she caused. In stark contrast, Claire is so shocked at Jill's actions; partially in terror but also because Claire knows what it cost Jill to infect herself with the Master Plaga. Claire looks at Jill it disbelief that she would go this far to save Claire and the other TerraSave survivors. As Jill sees herself as the worst thing she could have become, Claire is dumfounded with the self sacrifice and guilt stricken that Jill has done it for her.
> 
> "Murky" By Saint Mesa: Very much a Jill vibe, I listen to it and see her walking among the pews in the cathedral
> 
> "The Nothing" By SWARM: The scene in the park, as the pyres are being prepared to be lit, Jill would walk in with this song playing.
> 
> "Alpha" By Little Destroyer: This is, to me, just the song Jill saves Claire to.
> 
> "Static" By AK, Veela: This song is for the last scene where Claire chases Jill down again, imploring her to stop her fight and let Claire help her.

_“I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it.”  
-Harrowhark Nonegesimus _

Claire jerked awake as Moira shoved her, morning chill setting in with shiver. The cell wasn’t heated, and the cold of the night lingered on the concrete walls. Claire had slept light, falling into a dreamless sleep more from exhaustion than any real desire for rest. She groaned, shuffled the stiffness out of her legs and looked up into Moira’s panicked eyes.

“Something’s happening outside. I can’t see but I heard gunshots.” Moira whispered, she was shaking, whether from the cold or fear Claire couldn’t tell.

“Could be anything really, what else—” Claire stopped as she heard screaming. Pitched high, and it lasted _so_ long. The sound ground Claire down, she knew what made someone scream like that. Terror, pure terror in the face of violence and death. The sound stopped suddenly, a report of gunfire silencing it. Distantly, there were echoing pops and crashes, the kind of sounds one would dismiss as backfires, equipment crashing into a truck or any other heavy machinery. Not here, not after that scream, not after the violence of last night.

“Jill?” Moira posed quietly as Claire shook her head.

“Too widespread, too much gunfire.” Claire leaned against the exterior wall, trying to focus on the chaotic din outside. “Sounds like a full-on firefight, lot of individual weapons, some automatic fire.”

She jumped as the door to their cell rattled, a frantic, metallic scraping on the other end. Moira clutched Claire’s arm as she took a loose fighting stance, this might be their chance to break out. The door swung open, relief flooding in as Megan stumbled into the cell.

“Christ Lancaster, maybe a little warning so we don’t jump you?” Moira hissed, laughing nervously as Megan’s frown deepened.

“We have to go, they, they took Robert and Orla, I couldn’t stop it—its war out there.” Megan stuttered. Claire looked her over, light soot settled in her hair and a streak of blood running from cut on her cheek.

“Megan, deep breath. In and out.” Claire soothed, taking Megan by the shoulders and holding eye contact. She complied, settling a little as Claire forced a reassuring smile. “Good, now tell me what’s happened.”

“The Commissar’s men kept us in the hotel after the explosion, we tried to come looking for you. By morning they had gone and we went to city hall to demand answers but—there was a crowd there, the church freaks there with guns and banners and—” Megan started to hyperventilate, clutching her chest as Claire ran her hand over Megan’s arm.

“Breath, breath. Keep going, pace yourself.”

“They were saying something about Volkiidu, about how they thought a demon had brought its minions to set plague and ruin on the Valley. They kept chanting about the end times and the Commissar tried to put it down. He first said you two were being held in connection to the airport bombing, apparently most of their winter food supplies were held there and the whole town was in panic. He said you were at the police station and then the church militia began shouting him down, more doomsday nonsense. It turned ugly, fast. We ran when the gunshots started but some of the crowd turned on us. They called us saboteurs, heathens, all sorts of things. We got separated and I hid. I saw Orla get captured, they dragged her off to the east end of the city. I never saw Robert, but I assumed the same. I didn’t know where else to go. All the militia are busy fighting for control of the city.” Megan stammered, trying to catch her breath as Moira took her hand.

“You did the right thing, there are three of us now, much better odds.” Moira offered, looking to Claire for approval. 

“She’s right, with the fight still ongoing, we might be able to get the others out in the chaos. That’s what’s important. Let’s be quick.” Claire backed up, patting Megan’s shoulder as she nodded. The trio stepped into the dark hall of the cell block, Claire taking the lead as she ran towards a stairwell at the far end. They climbed quickly stepping into an empty lobby, glass windows shattered, crunching underfoot as they stepped out onto the street.

More gunfire made them duck instinctively, Claire trying to get her bearings. They were somewhere in the south east quarter of the city, close enough to the city cathedral that she could see the spire over the rooftops.

“This way, stay close.” Claire ordered, Moira and Megan sticking to her as Claire ran through a side street. She stopped dead and dove towards an alley as a crowd of shouting people passed in front of them.

“Bishop’s men, you can tell by the uniforms.” Megan muttered as they hid behind a dumpster that reeked of spoiled vegetables and soiled paper. 

“I think they’ve passed.” Moira spoke up as the gunfire and shouting seemed to move off. Claire nodded and stepped back out on the street, turning the opposite direction from the column of church militants. A sudden cry of alarm halted Claire, head turning to look behind them. A singular soldier was pointing and shouting in their direction.

“Run! Now!” Claire shouted as the three took off in a sprint. They whirled onto another street, stench of smoke rising from a burning car, Claire almost slipping on a scattered pile of spent shell casings spread over the road. They kept running, hoping the black smoke billowing from the fire would cover their escape form any pursuers. Claire stole a glance behind her as they rounded onto another side street. Moira shouted something Claire didn’t catch, finding herself confronted with half a dozen of the Bishop’s men. She immediately went for her gun but it was too late, the nearest soldier closed the distance and knocked her to the ground with his shoulder. Moira yelped as two men pushed her up against the wall, Megan screaming in fear and rage as she threw herself at the soldier near Claire. He toppled over, his comrades pulling Megan back and holding a blade to her throat. Claire tried to catch her breath as a rifle was pointed at her, a tense moment as she looked from Moira and back to Megan.

“Wait!” an accented voice in English called out, one of the soldiers stepped forward, a white chord around his shoulder. The other soldiers obeyed as he eyed the three TerraSave workers.

“His holiness has been looking for these two. The were the agitators the Commissar had arrested. They are the ones we need to expel the demons from our city.” He boomed, looking down at Claire as she glowered at him. A truck pulled up alongside them as Claire tried to look for a way out, a soldier not paying attention, getting too close to her.

“What about this one?” The soldier holding Megan asked as the leader looked over at her.

“Nothing. Bring those two with the other saboteurs, she goes to the prison.” The lead gunman shrugged as Claire and Moira were dragged over to the truck. 

“No, no! You fuckers can’t!” Megan shouted, elbowing her captor hard in the stomach. He cried out in pain, doubling over as Megan grabbed his gun and pointed it at the leader. “You let them go now and you get to live. Order them now!” Megan screamed, hands shaking as the leader stared at her blankly. Claire’s heart rate soared, looking between the two parties of the standoff, Megan’s captor recovering behind her,

“Megan run!” Claire screamed as one of the militants clapped his hand over her mouth. The warning came too late, Megan glancing to Claire as her captor seized her. He grabbed Megan’s jaw and brought his knife to her throat. The blade cut deep as he pulled it across her neck. Megan’s eyes widened as her face went white, no scream as she dropped her gun. She fell to her knees, both hands clutched her throat as blood ran over her jacket. Her hands were soaked, gleaming red as it ran quickly over them, dripping in long streams onto the road as Megan fell to her side. Her gaze was listless, a pool spreading around her so fast, Claire knew she was dead before one of the gunmen shot her for good measure. The world went numb in a moment, Claire’s sight locked on the panic in Megan’s icy face. Moira screamed, her voice raw, cracking as she expressed her rage. She was silenced by a hard strike from the but of a rifle, shoved into the back of the truck with Claire, the aid captain not taking her eyes off the lifeless face of the woman who had tried to save them.

Claire didn’t register what was going on for a while, shock ripping her brain away from her senses for so long it was like waking up. Her knees stung as she was forced down on a hard surface. It was cold, weathered wood, a man was speaking in front of her, pacing before a dark lectern. Light spilled in from a tall window, scattering into dull color from stained shards hung in metal frames. Claire looked to her left; Moira, Robert and Orla where all knelt beside her, cuffed with guards standing over them, rifles in hand.

“You weren’t supposed to kill all of them. The ritual is most potent with all parties to the heresy.” The man in a black robe with red trim chastised, directing his ire over Claire’s head.

“She was trouble, we—we were told that these two where the most important.” A familiar voice sounded from behind Claire; the lead gunman of the patrol, the one that had murdered Megan. Claire’s stunned state collapsed into a flood of fury. She swung her leg out and collided with the man standing over her, knocking him to the floor. She went to stand, determined to bring her heel down on his face until he stopped moving. A sharp pain flared in her side as her muscles locked up. Claire fell to the floor as a loud, rapid ticking rang out in the hall of the cathedral. Claire groaned as she looked up, another gunmen clutching a stun baton as Claire felt her muscles pulse involuntarily. 

“Ms. Redfield, let us have peace in the house of God.” The bishop scolded as Claire was lifted up and roughly forced back into line. “You are safe here and will have a chance to repent before we cleanse the world of your demonic sickness.” The bishop began, his voice booming through the hall with righteous indignation. Claire fired the most venomous look she could muster, contorting her face into a scowl, willing all the harm in the world to befall this priest at the head of a band of murderous thugs.

“The fuck does that mean?” Moira challenged, mewing in pain as she was struck on the back of the head. 

“Silence!” The bishop commanded, holding his hand out to Moira. “You especially reek of the satanic plague that seeks to drown out this Valley. I have been trying to save these heathen people for a decade, but the devil has his hold deep. Witchcraft and paganism taint every corner of this country, but even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for the lord is with us and our cause.” The priest smirked as a chorus of disjointed voices returned “amen”.

“They worship or fear what they call a spirit of the Valley, but Volkiidu is no more than a demon that needs to be exorcised. It has been allowed to run rampant and its ills now consume the fools who harbored it. Salvation is only found in the light of the lord, in cleansing flame. The dead walk the earth and demon heads the spread with you, its minions, spreading malcontent and chaos to prepare for its arrival. Its dark machinations befall every city your so-called humanitarianism tries to set root. I could not stop you in Bergatrollet, but I will stop you here.” The bishop spat, the quartet of TerraSave survivors remaining silent, Claire’s muscles still jittery from the stun charge.

“I have studied your methods, your dark rituals and your tricks to beguile and torment the innocent folk who need the light of god. We will use one of your own spells against you, to banish the spirit from the city and then we will burn your bodies in sanctified pyres as the sun falls. The demon Volkiidu will come when it hears the spell and we shall repel it with God’s favor. We take these actions in his name, and we will be rewarded for carrying out his will.” The priest continued, raising his voice as the crowd of acolytes and gunmen cheered. He held his hands aloft, stepping closer to Claire as a dark smile spread over his face.

“Your pyre will be special, slow burning, thorough. There is so much sin to immolate in you. I’m sure you cavorted with the demon to open that portal to hell in their camp. I saw the towering inferno just like the rest of Bergatrollet. I know what it was.” The bishop taunted in a low, voice, staring down at Claire. He adjusted his vestments and inhaled deeply, looking over at the other survivors. “I shall pray for your souls.” He finished as they were hauled to their feet and dragged off. They didn’t struggle, forced forward into a side passage and down a steep, stone staircase. Torches lit the walls of a tight, stale catacomb, a set of iron bars sealed off different halls with carved epitaphs indicating the occupants in Cyrillic calligraphy. Claire was shoved into one such corridor, the others separated from her and locked into a cell further down. The heavy iron gates where chained shut and the bishop’s gunmen left them in the flickering orange torchlight.

“I just want a straight answer Redfield.” Robert’s voice broke the silence after several minutes, echoing off the walls form a cell Claire couldn’t see. “Was Valentine behind this?”

“I—” Claire started as she heard Robert groan with irritation. She sighed, sinking down against the cold stone wall. She hit the ground with an unceremonious thud as a tear broke over her cheek.

“She was.”

The licker was quick, keeping low as its claws clacked along the side of the building. Its muscular body moved like a panther, scaling the structure to the roof in seconds, a low chittering escaping its dagger-filled maw as it listened. The city was a host of new smells, but the sounds are what the creature could really make sense of. The echo of the smallest noises reverberated in ways that its brain could build into a rough diagram of buildings, streets, passing persons and vehicles. The creature had been designed with sophisticated auditory system. It had an extremely sensitive vestibular nerve, but in a separate apparatus, in two holes near its nostrils it had another. A tympanum cavity, much like a snake or crocodile, that let the BOW’s hearing pick up vibrations through solid substances, even through water as well as its mammalian auditory structure could hear through open air.

Its ability to make much sense out of what it heard was limited, mostly to spatial awareness, moving versus static objects, living opposed to inanimate. The Plaga beta embedded into the monster’s chest collated all the raw sensory data, communicated it back along a chain of its pack mates. The ultrasonic sounds soared far, but were limited, a line of hidden monsters collecting and relaying the message back to the master Plaga.

It was a bit a misnomer now, the true master sitting quietly in a grove of trees, three lickers with makeshift packs burdening them sat patiently while Jill held her eyes closed, listening through dozens of ears. Her skin was pale and warm to the touch, the coat she wore more out of habit than anything else. Under it she wore a tank top, dark cargo pants; the outfit crisscrossed with belts and pouches holding anything Jill had felt she could need but not put on her lickers being used as pack animals. Her hair hung loose, most of the black camouflage had run off with sweat but some streaks remained on her face. She had been focused entirely on controlling the pack of lickers, the crash course exhausting and tedious. By the time she had gathered enough information from her bioweapon scouts, it was nearly nightfall. Despite having a small army at her command, she knew she couldn’t rush in without tempting disaster. Jill had taken a tremendous chance and was not going to squander it on hastiness.

“Took much longer than I hoped for.” Jill exhaled sharply as she closed out the other senses, ordering the pack to return to her as she stood in the grove, the cold air preserving last night’s frost. The sun had begun to dip towards the edge of the mountains and the sky glowed orange, something her blind pack had not been able to show her.

“Church coup, they have Claire and the others. Likely in that fort of a church to the north east.” Jill mused, brain still sorting through all she had learned from the licker scouts. She slowly paced through the grove, her pack chittered and hissed around her in the undergrowth, falling in behind her as they awaited instruction.

“Time to pay the Bishop a visit. Can’t remember the last time I was in a church.”

The Bishop of Bergatrollet, now the faith sovereign of Atriebiba Gorod, hung his head at the head of the cathedral’s altar. He prayed for good fortune in his endeavors and basked in his success. God would be pleased with how he was cleansing this dark corner of his green earth, delivering his message to those who were pure of heart and purging those who spurned his glory. The sun was low, catching the heavy layers of clouds descending into the valley and refracting to a bright red. The glow burned through the grand windows of the cathedral, blood red light and shadows as the massive door at the shrouded end of the temple creaked open.

The bishop looked up, barely registering a figure in the evening shadow, no lights had yet been lit as all his acolytes were escorting the prisoners to the pyres. He had been in a meditative state, unsure of the passage of time as the steady footfall of a single person approached.

“Who’s that? Are the pyres lit?” The bishop called out, his voice echoing with the shuddering thud of the closing church door.

“No.” the reply came from the dark in a deliberate, female timbre, pausing as if to consider the question, to look out across the city to sense if the fires were burning. The footfalls resumed in the shadowed part of the cathedral, coming closer to the altar.

“Well get back out there! The TerraSave heretics must burn before the sun goes down or—”

“The sun,” The disembodied voice interrupted, “Is already down.”

A woman in a dark coat emerged into the crimson cast of the sun’s fleeting glow. Her boots thudded with a marching rhythm as she walked confidently among the pews. The hems of her coat fluttered gently behind her as she strode, her body crossed with the belts that told of hidden weapons under the black leather that hung on her broad shoulders. Her hair was dark with orphaned strands of blond floating in it as it danced around her shoulders and face. Her brow was dirty with ash, eyes shadowed by black, streaks running down her cheeks from sweat or tears. Her mouth curled into a vicious smile that poured ice into the veins of the bishop.

“Demon!” He hissed as he tried to stifle a gasp. He looked up, a soft clacking noise coming from the rafters and from the walls. A chirping growl met his ears as he saw nearly a dozen lickers, clinging to the walls and ceiling, some slowly descended, waiting for the order to strike.

“You, cannot enter the house of God!” The bishop proclaimed, voice beginning to waver as the woman drew closer. She scoffed, shaking her head as she began to climb the steps to the altar.

“Your God is not here.” Jill laughed, “This is an empty box.” she said as she gestured with her right arm to the building around her.

“God is in all his churches! With all of his faithful!” The bishop countered, looking behind him as two lickers descended the wall, nearing the floor.

“Whatever you feel is divine protection, is not here, it has never been here and will not be here for you, or for anyone else.” Jill continued, now on the same level as the bishop. “You’ve twisted your fear and your faith into a sickness worse than the spores that claimed my comrades lives.”

“I have worked to rid this valley of your filth and your poison! I will not let you take this city too. This is the will of God and I will carry it out!”

“Your God would know the truth wouldn’t he? He would know that the only reason I’m here tonight is because of you.” Jill hissed, pacing around the lectern in slow, heavy steps. “This is all your fault, isn’t it?”

“I am the bishop of Bergatrollet!” The bishop stammered, slamming his fist down on the lectern, his candle falling to the marble floor with a loud clang. “I have always carried out God’s will, to protect and save the people of Iarna Valea! To deliver them from harm, from you!”

“Lies?” Jill cocked her head, looking up at the crucifix above the altar, now crawling with her lickers. “In your house of God? No wonder he has abandoned you.” Jill laughed, shaking her head as she placed her hand on the lectern. “I won’t abandon you though. In fact, I will be with you for the rest of your life.” Jill continued, taking on a tortuously soothing tone. 

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For the Lord is with me; His rod and His staff, they comfort me.” The bishop murmured as he shrank away from Jill who threw her head back and laughed.

“You feckless thug,” Jill spat as the bishop fell to his knees, quivering in fear and holding his hands in prayer, “the shadow is mine, and so is the Valley.”

The bishop didn’t have time to reply, gurgling a startled bleat of pain and fear as a licker’s massive claw tore through his back, cutting through his throat and mouth. He stared in terror at Jill as his blood filled his lungs, pathetic gurgles marking the end of his life as the lickers began to rip him apart. Jill turned away from the carnage, wet tearing sounds and thuds as viscera was spilled onto the marble floors. Blood ran down the steps after her in a slow stream. She wasn’t finished and the night was young.

The Bishop’s coup had been nearly complete, lines of the Atriebiba Militia kneeling against a wall as Claire was led past. She winced as a dozen loud cracks filled the evening air, Church gunmen executing their prisoners where they knelt. The group of four TerraSave members were led to the center green, the square their hotel room had looked out onto. In less than a day the eerie dissonance of hung criminals and active nightlife had fallen into a hellscape that sent a sharp chill up Claire’s spine. Torches were lit in a ring around the park, armed acolytes patrolling in groups of four and eight. Dozens of military trucks filled the streets, pallets of supplies being rationed and handed out to frightened civilians; shaky and timid as they were shoved from one line to another. There were several walls around the square stained with splatters of blood from impromptu executions and the hanged men had been taken down. There was a mass grave being dug at one end of the park, bloodied white bundles stacked like bags of soil as half a dozen soldiers and a piece of construction equipment worked to hide the results of the day’s carnage.

In the hazy air settling into the town with the bleeding orange twilight, Claire’s eyes settled onto the center of the park. Four pyres had been built, large post rising from the center of each. Several church militants in black robes, a macabre uniform based on the garb of the clergy, stood waiting. They said nothing, staring at the prisoners, regarding them as items of disgust and revulsion.

Claire grunted with pain as she was forced to the post of one of the pyres. Her hands were uncuffed and then forcefully bound behind her. Claire breathed deep through her nose, testing the bond, her fingers going numb and rope barely creaking with the resistance. She glanced to her side, seeing Moira next to her, eyes fearful and pleading. 

“She’s looking for me to find a way out.” Claire thought, the idea digging into her heart as she held Moira’s plaintiff stare.

“Stay calm, just try and work your way out, little by little. Keep at it.” Claire whispered as the acolytes finished binding Robert and Orla to the last two pyres. One of the bishop’s men, adorned with cables of red and silver over his black robes, stepped upon a hastily built platform. The gunmen around the square took cue and began to gather, most of the civilians taking the chance to flee, only a few zealots of curious fools followed.

“These four foreigners are the heretics responsible for unleashing this terrible plague upon your country!” The lead acolyte boomed after a sufficient crowd had gathered, his troop of black robes spreading out in front of them, some lighting torches. “They colluded with a demon, made deals with your heathen countrymen and have brought sickness, ruin and death! The Bishop of Bergatrollet could stand idle no longer! The time for cleansing by the almighty sword of God has come. It starts here, tonight, as we would purge the witches and demons of old.” The acolyte proclaimed, turning towards Claire.

“The fires they lit destroyed our food, our medicine, our wintering supply; but the Church has kept its own stock safe and shall provide for its flock as the Lord provides for his. We begin tonight, by exorcising the demon’s touch on these heretics. Fear not! For we have studied the stench of pagan chant and heathen spells as to flush them out and like a leach used to pull bad blood, we shall use their own rituals against them.” The acolyte finished to a roar of approval.

Moira glanced back at Claire as a low drumming began to rumble, echoing across the square.

“The fuck is this?” Claire hissed, Moira shrugging.

“I can’t say, some kinda local thing probably, old chant?” Moira returned as the troop of black robed acolytes began.

_“Sädemeke, sädemeke  
Tõuse tuhast, heledake  
Sädemeke, sädemeke  
Tõuse tuhast, heledake”_

The chant was bellowed to a heavy drumbeat as the robed acolytes began to move in a slow circle, led by four torch bearing members. The crowd uttered an ethereal hum in tune with the chant as they progressed, Claire shooting another troubled look at Moira, who was smirking, shaking their head.

“Its not some exorcism.” Moira laughed as Claire raised an eyebrow. “It’s a goddamn wicca fire chant. Like, I’ve seen it online. It’s not ancient, its not theirs, this is all bullshit.” Moira continued to laugh as one of the acolytes came up behind her. Moira let out a muffled yelp as a strip of dark cloth was pulled over her mouth and fastened tightly behind her head. Claire started to shout only to meet the same fate, growling in anger, tossing her head as she too was silenced.

_“Tulelooma pimedusse  
Kullakuma tumedusse  
Tulelooma pimedusse  
Kullakuma tumedusse” _

The chant was nearly finished, the drums winding down as the singular voice of the lead acolyte bellowed the final verse. The drums struck a hard, unified note and the night fell silent. The torch bearers now stood behind them, Claire could smell the smoke wafting from their torches. She shut her eyes, still trying to twist at the bonds on her wrists.

The sun fell, the city almost instantly become subsumed in darkness. There was a suspended moment, a pure silence and stillness as Claire waited to feel the screaming heat of flame on her back. The night air was torn by an inhuman screech, the note soaring up, keening into a creaking growl that echoed off the mountains themselves. Claire knew that sound, had heard it through the basements of the Racoon City Police department and through the halls of Umbrella’s NEST.

“Lickers.” Claire thought to herself, the cloth tied around her head still gagging her, keeping her from explaining the sudden howl in the night. Moira just stared at Claire, their eyes meeting in the flickering torchlight as Claire tried to hold firm, show her friend a brave face. The nervous buzzing that had befallen the crowd burst with a heavy thunder from the south. Claire winced, rocking slightly as a wave of overpressure struck, her ears hurting as she craned her neck to look. Something large had exploded amongst the gunmen’s trucks, hurling smoke, fire and debris skyward. Gunmen ran, someone shouted orders as another explosion tore through the city.

A building went up in flames in front of Claire, far enough away for her to feel safe but close enough that she felt the rush of hot air pushed out into the park. They were bathed in bright orange and red, fire crackling loud as shouting, and chaos took hold. More thunders, crashes as glass shattered, metal warped, and buildings fell to rubble. In seconds the park seemed to be surrounded by flames, the acolytes’ vehicles and supplies consumed in a roaring inferno, the city hall collapsing into a raging blaze.

The shouting began to give way to screaming, the sound of pure pain and raw terror. Claire caught a shape dart through the shadow of the fires, trying to follow it as it passed out of view. She was shaking, the moment where she was certain she would die had faded into a chaos that dangled the possibility of escape in front of her. Claire worked at her bonds again, furiously as they cut into her wrists. She looked up to see an acolyte approaching her, fury in his eyes and torch in hand. He said nothing but Claire knew he was blaming her for the sudden, seemingly supernatural intervention of fire and beasts out of the night.

Claire was frozen, held by the hatred burning in his eyes as he grew closer. A flash, and he was on the ground, a reddish-brown beast on top of him. Claire saw it, saw it clearly, one of the monsters of her nightmares, one of Umbrellas terrors unleashed on the world. The licker tore at the acolyte, his screams cut off in a gurgling croak as the monster’s fangs tore at his throat. It paused and turned towards Claire, eyeless head steady, teeth gnashing. They were painted red with the blood of its kill, pink pieces of flesh and white chunks of bone hanging from its jaw. Claire kept perfectly still, trying to hold her breath, avoid making any noise.

It lost interest as several loud pops sounded in the night, a desperate attempt to fight off the bioweapon predators. The licker’s head turned suddenly towards the sound. It let out an earsplitting screech and took off, Claire let out the breath she had bold holding in a sudden huff through her nose. She continued to squirm, shuffling her shoulders as she tried to get free, looking up as her eyes caught motion again.

The fires danced and whirled around burning cars in the street, casting the shadow of a figure stepping between them. Claire watched, transfixed as they walked into the square. The tempest of wind kicked up by the fires blew the ends of their coat, the garment flapping around them as their hair danced in the hot tempest. A licker ran up behind them, Claire bracing for the sudden strike on the unwitting newcomer; it never came. The monster seemed to fall in on the figure’s right side, deferring to them as if it were a loyal pet. The figure flicked their wrist, and the beast was off again, the light of the fires now illuminating their face as they looked up at Claire.

Jill approached the pyres at a steady, confident pace, her expression resolute, betraying nothing as the night roared with fire and the screams of dying men. Claire stared, spellbound as she looked into Jill’s tired eyes. They had turned heterochromatic; one the familiar soft blue that always brought Claire’s stomach to flutter and one a deep red, something sinister that shook Claire to the bone.

Jill cradled Claire’s chin in her hand, pulled the gag out of Claire’s mouth and sighed deeply. Claire couldn’t bring herself to speak as she looked at Jill, the shock of her appearance and the relief of rescue had given way to an uncertain terror that made her shake.

“Wha—what have you done?” Claire mourned, tears breaking from her eyes as Jill’s fingers stroked her cheek.

“What I had to.” Jill intoned with a melancholy certainty that made Claire’s tears flow freer. Jill circled around Claire, produced a small blade, and quickly cut her loose. Claire fell forward, knees shaking as she rubbed her numb wrists. Jill was back in front of her, holding the knife by the blade and extending it to Claire.

“Free your friends and get out of here. The lickers won’t harm you.” Jill commanded as Claire took the knife, looking to Moira. Jill was already walking off when she looked back.

Claire leapt off her pyre and ran to Moira, cutting her loose and forcing the knife into her hand.

“Get the others to safety, steal a car, anything, just get back up north.” Claire implored as Moira pulled her gag from her lips. Claire was running before Moira could protest, watching Claire disappear into the burning city.

The road was familiar, Jill striding through the center of the main boulevard as she moved off towards the docks. She had no need to hide in the shadows tonight. Any onlooker watching the fires fled at when they saw her, retreating into homes and slamming doors. Jill suppressed a dry grunt of amusement, unsure whether it was her appearance, or the monsters stalking the rooftops behind her. She had two scouts moving through the side streets ahead of her and three on the rooftops keeping pace. The rest were hunting the Bishop’s men.

Jill turned onto a side street, hands in her pockets and head down as she cut through the neighborhood overlooking the docks. The streets were nearly black, rotating blackouts likely made worse by the fires and collapse of the Commissar’s delicate regime. Jill picked something up behind her, hearing not with her own ears. The footfalls grew louder as they ran onto the same street behind her.

“Jill!” Claire’s voice called out, drawing out Jill’s name. She didn’t shout with the fury that had burned in her the previous night. She sounded desperate, pleading. Jill stopped, gruffed a soft sigh with a cloud of breath, and turned.

Claire was about a hundred feet away, coming to a stop as Jill turned to face her. Soot covered Claire’s face, her chest heaved from running and tears glinted in the darkness on her cheeks. The light from the fires reflected off the night clouds and billowing smoke, casting a hazy orange light over the street. Barely enough that the two women could see each other.

Claire took a long breath, furrowed her brow and kept coming. She stopped short as a licker leapt from a rooftop, landing feet away from Claire as she recoiled.

“It won’t hurt you, it’s just reacting to your posture.” Jill spoke in a low, drained voice. She waved her hand and the licker moved off, massive claws clacking on the asphalt as it circled towards Jill.

“Y—you can control it?” Claire stuttered, still shocked to see what she knew to be a vicious bioweapon act like a tame dog.

“I can. I needed more than myself tonight.” Jill returned, watching the licker prowl.

“Jill, please, I know you tried to explain to me before, but whatever is going on, whatever I don’t know—” Claire struggled to get her words together, taking another cautious step towards Jill. “I know you wouldn’t have done this to yourself unless it was big.” Claire dared to take another step. “Unless you were desperate.” 

“You need to take your team north. Stay away from major cities, stay away from the Atriebiba River and stay away from Mount Ispititoare.” Jill commanded without looking up at Claire. “You can survive this.”

“You need help. You’re trying to fight this alone and people are getting killed. Jill, please, stop approaching this like it’s a war.” Claire closed in on Jill, taking a breath and holding it as she placed her hands on Jill’s arms.

“What happened to the BSAA wasn’t your fault. You were wrong with the Gehenna Protocol, but you were trying to save the rest of the Valley. Stop fighting. Stop fighting me and let’s solve this together.” Claire tried to speak soothingly, feeling a slight rush in her chest as Jill let her in, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I haven’t given up on you. No one else has to die.” Claire mewed into Jill’s shoulder, hearing a soft gasp from Jill as she spoke.

“That’s not true. Don’t look for me. Don’t come to the mountain.” Jill whispered. Claire was confused for a second too long. Jill spun Claire around, grabbing both Claire’s wrists with one hand and wrapping her free arm around Claire’s throat. Claire struggled as Jill pinned Claire’s wrists against her thigh, Claire’s squirming pointless against Jills grip. Jill exhaled and squeezed tighter, Claire beginning to feel lightheaded.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my—” Jill’s voice faded, sounding like it was underwater as Claire slipped quickly into unconsciousness. Jill sighed as she felt Claire go limp in her arms, releasing her immediately. Jill lifted her gently, carrying her over to the side of a boarded-up store front. Jill set Claire down slowly, making sure she wouldn’t slip or fall over.

“I hope you know how much this hurts.” Jill spoke in a soft whimper, running her hand over Claire’s cheek. “But I hope this is the last time you ever see me.” Jill finished, leaning forward and kissing Claire’s forehead. She let out a withering breath, wiping her eyes before turning and walking off into the night.

“I have no fucking clue where she went! We didn’t fucking die and the monsters are busy with the Jesus freaks. The Renault is by the docks, my keys are still in it. It has a spare, that’s where we’re going.” Moira shouted. She had scavenged a piece of broken railing as a makeshift club as Robert and Orla followed closely. Orla carried the knife that Claire had left them, and Robert was holding one of the acolytes’ rifles, not willing to admit he didn’t know how to use it. 

“She went after the fucking BSAA bitch again didn’t she?” Robert growled, struggling to keep up with Moira’s pace as Orla cast him a sour look of distaste.

“Jill was her friend; you can’t blame her.” Orla defended, nearly running into Moira as she stopped dead. The had turned into the neighborhood near the docks, the dark street barely lit by the glow of distant fires. Infront of them prowled half a dozen lickers, chittering and climbing over the buildings. 

“Is that—” Orla started, Moira holding up a hand to silence her. Orla tapped Moira’s shoulder and pointed. In the center of the small pack of lickers, Claire lay seemingly unconscious on the sidewalk.

“Is she dead?” Robert asked, Moira and Orla turning to glare at him as one of the lickers let out a sharp scream. The rest of the pack turned in their direction, chittering and hissing.

“All this fucking way and you get us killed by lickers you limp-dicked ass-clown!” Moira screamed, furious and resigned to running from the BOWs. They hissed again, turned, and ran off into the night. The three TerraSave survivors stared in disbelief.

“We need to make sure she’s ok.” Orla spoke first and ran over to Claire, checking her pulse.

“She—she seems fine.” Moira covered her mouth, surprised and overjoyed as Claire groaned, Orla helping her sit up as Claire’s eyes fluttered.

“At this point I don’t think anything can fucking kill her anymore.” Robert scoffed, unable to fight his own feelings of relief, having just faced the prospect of being ripped to pieces.

“Come on, we need to get her out of here.” Orla decided, lifting Claire to her feet, groggy and barely able to stand.

“I’m not looking forward to explaining this to the others.” Robert groaned as the four walked off towards the dockyard.


	12. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and her team retreat to their last ditch effort to save the people of the Valley. Despite everything, despite the violence and her own team's distrust, Claire clings to the hope that Jill has not truly forsaken them. She endeavors to search for Jill, to force the issue and refuse to run anymore and is confronted with yet another disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get the full Volkiidu myth! I've been really excited with this premise since the inception of this idea, I've always appreciated when Resident Evil played with mythology most notably in RE6 and RE Revelations and wanted to add my own, personal spin.
> 
> That and we are now at a multi-chapter spread I have been referring to as the Ravine and I am stupid excited for it :)
> 
> Jill and Claire will have to confront their feelings now, its their only choice.
> 
> "god.drugs.u" By Luna Shadows. This is a very JillxClaire song for this chapter both in pining and in person.
> 
> "Android - Eqavox Remix" By Savlonic. This is a song that speaks to Jill's inner monologue and how her self worth has hit the floor, the only light in her life are those fleeting moments reminding her Claire is still safe.

_“[People] like to invent monsters and monstrosities.  
Then they seem less monstrous themselves.”  
-Andrej Sapkowski _

Claire let out a grunt of frustration, dropping the soaked pair of jeans she had been scrubbing back into the soapy, luke-warm water. The mountain air was already leaching away the heat and she felt her shoulders growing sore.

“Makes you appreciated a damn washing machine.” Claire groaned, swinging her arm in a wide circle. She added the pants to a basket of similarly wet clothes.

It had been nearly a week since Claire had woken up to the tearfully giddy expression on Moira’s face; stroking Claire’s cheek in the back seat of the Renault as Orla drove them north. Claire hadn’t looked back, Atriebiba Gorod burned a bright orange over the midnight of the Valley. Claire had hugged Moira tight and cried, the tumultuous brush with death on so many fronts, the collapse of such a thin strand of hope in such a short time, Megan’s murder, and yet another confrontation with Jill had left her utterly drained. They had arrived near the Melna Upe tunnel project at dawn. Lauren had been the first to greet them, excitement had fled her face the second she met Claire’s eyes. Orla had been the one to break the news as Miranda and Stephen had walked up to the group. They had stood in awkward silence for minutes before Lauren tried to change subject, talking about moving slowly, carefully without spare parts. Despite the good fortune of finding the drill operable, Megan’s death hung over them.

The washboard slipped from Claire’s hands and splashed to the bottom of the plastic basin she had been using. She let tears roll down her cheek for a moment before wiping her wet hands on her shirt before brushing them from her eyes. She had been getting more control as she processed the catastrophe, but had learned to let it air sometimes. It was ok for it just to hurt.

Claire had lost in Megan one of her few confidants. She had Moira and Orla, but the others were increasingly distancing themselves from Claire. They still looked to her for guidance, for instruction, still followed her plan but—things had changed. Claire had overheard Robert going off about how Megan had died because of Jill, how the BSAA agent had turned herself into a monster and was using bioweapons to carry out some unknown and diabolical agenda. Claire hated it, it enraged her to think that Miranda and the others were listening to him use and contort Megan’s death to slander Jill further because of some misguided vengeance for Quintin. What hurt the most was that Claire couldn’t counter the lie. She didn’t know the truth, she just knew that she couldn’t give up hope that Jill was simply adrift, desperate and alone. Any alternative would have ground the last glimmer of hope to dust.

“Tag out? I can take the rest while you go hang them to dry.” Moira offered as she walked up next to Claire. Claire looked up listlessly at first, trying to think how long she had been sitting, idle and pensive.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Claire grumbled, standing and stretching her arms above her head.

“Scouts from Melna Upe are back.” Moira spoke up after a pause, catching Claire’s full attention. “Plant’s overrun, but there’s good news. Some of the scattered TerraSave workers have taken refuge in Leduden Upe a few miles into the mountains to the north west of the power plant. They say they have village of about five hundred safe and are willing to lend help to the tunnel project.”

“That’s good at least. How about water? Has the drill been getting enough?” 

“It’s been hard.” Moira sighed. “Lauren said that its slow going, sometimes they have to shut down and wait or risk clogging the mechanism with drying slurry. Too much of what’s near us is frozen. Are you sure we can’t be sending trucks out to the river or just anywhere out east?” 

“No. Its not safe and we can’t risk anyone getting stranded out there.” Claire huffed, grabbing her basket of damp laundry as Moira sighed.

“Have you thought that Jill may not have been telling you the truth.” Moira dared as Claire froze. She inhaled deeply before turning to face Moira. Claire’s face looked angry, angry in a way that seemed forced. She was upset, but only wanted to be seen as livid. She couldn’t keep it up in front of Moira, the glare was enough to chase Lauren or Robert away, even Orla; but not Moira.

Claire gave up the act with a shuddering breath, shoulders heaving as if something had been set on them. She inhaled the cold mountain air through her nose, collecting her thoughts before turning her eyes to Moira.

“Every minute of every day Moira.” Claire started in a withering sigh somewhere between and angry hiss and a plaintiff whimper. “Every day since the attack I have woken up and questioned all the things I’ve done, every decision I’ve made. I’m just as lost as everyone else and I can’t admit it because they need me.” Claire huffed, straightened up as if the statement had reminded her to fix her posture. “And I had hoped that I could count on Jill and I can’t. She’s—I don’t know, I really don’t know, but she could have killed all of us and she didn’t. I think in a twisted way she’s trying to protect us.” Claire finished, turning away as Jill’s words rang in her ears.

_“You need to take your team north. Stay away from major cities, stay away from the Atriebiba River and stay away from Mount Ispititoare.”_

The words seemed to poke at her mind as Claire walked up the hill from the well to a communal clothesline the village had set up next to a small field of kohlrabi and spinach that ran right to the edge of a sheer bluff. Avoiding the cities were self-explanatory, between Atriebiba Gorod and Bergatrollet, they had brought nothing but death and disaster. The molded had been spreading in all directions from Bergatrollet, the infected reaching the river a day after their escape from Atriebiba. The current carried bile and gore and infection south, spreading it rapidly through the southern reach and plateau. Claire had made sure they were sending someone to scout a few miles out every twelve hours, hoping to avoid being caught by surprise by a horde of molded shambling towards the tunnel. They were safe in the mountains, a few of the old villages providing shelter and aide in exchange for being included in the plan to escape. Claire couldn’t help but see the irony in her team being cared for by the very people they came to save.

“Good morning miss, mind if I join you?” An elderly man Claire recognized as the village ealdorman greeted her as he set down a large basket of laundry next to the line across from Claire. He was gaunt but sturdy for his age, hair a bristled gray, face clean shaven. He wore a heavy gray coat over what looked like a brown pair of workman’s overalls patched with a menagerie of cannibalized garments.

“Anders Gustovich, uh, of course.” Claire stuttered, waiting awkwardly long before answering. Anders flashed her a bright smile and began pinning a damp white shirt to the line. “I meant to thank you for letting my team and I stay in your village, we have nowhere else to go really and I’m certain we would be facing innumerable dangers down in the Valley.” Claire found herself as the man looked up at her.

“It brings good fortune to open one’s home to weary travelers and strangers.” The ealdorman returned in a slow, creaking voice, the words sounding like a refrain he had uttered a thousand times to a thousand young faces. He broke the stoic recitation with a scratchy but hearty laugh. “Of course, that’s just an old superstition we repeat to trick ourselves into being neighborly. I like it all the same.” 

Claire laughed gently, feeling a genuine bubble of mirth from the old man’s lucid view of his own proverb.

“Tell me, Ms. Redfield, right?” Anders continued, waiting for an affirmative nod from Claire. “Have you ever heard the legend of Volkiidu?” 

“I have heard bits and pieces of it. Enough, I think, to get most of it.” Claire answered, blowing out a long breath before speaking. She tamped down the urge to spill her feelings, how every time the mention of the myth had come up, tragedy had struck. The name meant weaponized faith, it meant destruction and fear. Jill had even mentioned it to her back at the textile plant in Bergatrollet.

“A lot of people in Iarna Valea know part or most of the myth, but very few have ever bothered to listen to the full story.” Anders returned, softening his tone, slow and deliberate as he picked up on Claire’s unease. “Would you humor an old man? Most of my life is now stories anyway.”

“Of course.” Claire bit back a frown and tried to smile as she half hid behind her hung up laundry.

“The legend begins with the first peoples to find and settle in Iarna Valea, pagan Saxons running from the Roman Legion’s deadly advance through Europe. They were greeted in the highlands by a spectral wolf, shadow and light that seemed at once one with the trees and the snow. They were terrified until it spoke to them. Volkiidu demanded to know what these interlopers were doing in its home and they asked for refuge. The spirit granted their plea on the condition of respect and reverence for the Valley it protected. The peoples spread and lived harmoniously for the valley for years and years.” The old man began a with a steady breath and sonorous voice.

“Volkiidu’s pack kept the woodlands balanced and the Valley thrived. The people of Iarna Valea enjoyed a warm and sheltered climate kept ever green by their spirit’s wardenship. They revered Volkiidu, celebrated its image in holiday and festival, their protector and patron. Over time, the other creatures of the forest began to revere Volkiidu in the same. All except for three.

“The Snake, the Fox and the Spider grew bitter and jealous of Volkiidu, watching the spirit with envious and scheming eyes. They would pass their grievances around in the quiet of the nights up in the highland woods and caves, the people of the Valley having no love for them. They made a pact, one night in the dark of the new moon, and approached Mount Ispititoare.”

“I know that name.” Claire interjected, rolling the words over in her head. The ealdorman nodded slow and patient as Claire looked up at him.

“It was a volcano, thousands of years ago. The caldera collapsed in on itself and over a millennium, water filled the gorge and created a massive lake at the peak of the mountain. Legend tells of a Rusalka, an evil water spirit, that resided in lake Ispititoare. Some just put this to the number of deaths in the surrounding mines and the secrecy of the former Soviet base built along the mountaintop.” The ealdorman continued; Claire now focused entirely on his story.

“The Snake, the Fox and the Spider all made an offering to the Rusalka. The Snake gave its legs, the Fox its heart and the Spider its beauty. The Rusalka took these things and promised to engineer a horrible fate to befall Volkiidu. The Rusalka unleashed a terrible curse upon the people of the Valley. It destroyed their bodies, spreading from home to home, village to village. The most wicked part was that the very souls of its victims where corrupted and consumed. The suffering was slow and deep and Volkiidu could only watch as it spread like fire through their Valley. Despite their power, Volkiidu quickly learned there was only one way to stop the curse from spreading. Kill anyone who had it, stopping it and committing the victim to a peaceful end. This of course, was what the Rusalka had intended.

“Volkiidu did not hesitate, sweeping into infected villages at night and culling its flock. It was resolute, performing its duty swiftly to the horror of its own pack. They were not the only ones stunned by Volkiidu’s bloodshed; the people of the Valley turned on their protector. They blamed Volkiidu for the plague and for the bloodshed, marching in numbers into the highlands where their ancestors had first found the spirit. They burned the woodlands in fury, killing hundreds of Volkiidu’s animal charges. They too began to turn on the spirit. 

“On one night of anger and fire, the people of the Valley came upon Volkiidu’s pack. Within minutes they set the woodlands alight, killing the spirit’s kin in a swift pogrom. Volkiidu was enraged beyond their resolute duty to stop the curse. They slaughtered the villagers responsible and followed those who fled back to their homes. Those who survived the spirits fury woke up to smoldering ruins and bodies littering the streets torn and ripped apart in so many unnatural ways. Volkiidu’s fury did not stop with the people. The animals of the Valley tried to stop the spirit in its rage and only met the same fate. Birds, deer, bear, mice, any number of creatures lay dead and dying around the destroyed town.

“The Snake, the Fox and the Spider where horrified at the consequences of their jealous plan. The fell down on their knees before the spirit and confessed, begging forgiveness for their transgression. Volkiidu demanded to know where the Rusalka was and took off to the mountain. Volkiidu found the Rusalka of Ispititoare and immediately severed her power. The Valley was plunged into a deep winter as Volkiidu sealed the creature to the mountain top and ended the curse in the Valley. Even though she was beaten, the Rusalka rolled over and laughed, mocking the spirit from her lake. Volkiidu had nothing, their pack dead, those who survived the plague now feared and despised the spirit, and the only animals it had left where those who had betrayed them. The winter deepened into a freeze with Volkiidu’s despair, even in summer the Valley sees snow and storms. Volkiidu is said to wander the mountains still, guarding the Rusalka alone.

“It is bad luck to see a wolf in these woods, as it is an omen of certain death. They remember what the humans did to them. It is said that on clear nights, like the one of the pogrom that claimed Volkiidu’s pack, you can hear the keening howl of the spirit crying for its loss. Some even say if you listen hard enough, you can hear the Rusalka laughing in return.”

Claire was startled by something dripping onto her hand. She shook off the water drizzling from the soaked shirt she was hanging absent mindedly. She took in the story for a long moment, her hand wanting to shake as its meaning landed on her. She couldn’t shake the parallels, and how the myth had been used as a weapon against her and—and against _Jill._

“It reminds me of something that’s been happening here lately.” Claire breathed in a hoarse voice.

“You aren’t the only one.” The ealdorman leaned forward before answering in a low voice with a broad smile.

“It—I, that mountain you mentioned, there was an old Soviet base and mine there?” Claire narrowed in on the detail that had stuck with her.

“Was for missiles I think, the reds showed them off in a big parade. I’m sure you can tell I was around back then.” Anders laughed.

“Would make a great hideout if you were trying to lay low right now, wouldn’t it?” Claire muttered more to herself. “Thank you for the story, it—its set me right in a way, about someone who likely needs me right now.” Claire sighed.

“So, what are you going to do about them, Ms. Redfield? This person who needs you?”

“I’m going to find her.” Claire affirmed, looking him in the eye, “And I’m going to show her that I haven’t, that I’m not giving up on her even if she pushes me away.”

Claire quickly hung the rest of her clothes and returned to the small home the highland village had been able to spare for the remainder of the TerraSave team. With at least two of them out at the tunnel project at all times, the small house had been manageable as a dwelling, with only an occasional line for the one bathroom. Orla and Miranda were sat at the rickety old kitchen table pouring over a map of the Valley weighted down with a pack of cigarettes, a handgun and a half-eaten bowl of cereal. The pair looked up as Claire walked in, Orla breaking into a weary smile.

“Morning, Red.” Miranda groaned, still half asleep as she leaned against her hand. Her voice still laced with a taunting contempt she usually saved just for Claire. 

“You were on the shift last night?” Claire inquired, taking in Miranda’s drooping features and listless eyes.

“Yup, drill is still cranking away. Low on water as always, little in the way of beasties on the perimeter so that’s good. Robert and Lauren are there now, I think Stephen is still out on his visit to that village a few miles north, see if anyone there is still alive.” Miranda rolled lazily through her speech, drawing a long breath at the end as if she had completed some monumental task of strength. 

“We’re hoping we can find something like what we did in Leduden Upe. A little help can go a long way and anyone we find is someone we can still save.” Orla’s chipper tone cut through the deflate grumble of Miranda’s words.

“Good, good. I assume they didn’t have some hidden reservoir for us to tap though?” Claire laughed dryly as Orla shook her head. “Ok, I um—I have a hunch I’m going to act on ok, go prospecting.” Claire added nervously as Miranda furrowed her brow.

“The fuck do you mean by that Red?”

“I mean, I’ve been going over everything I remember something my brother talking about on the BSAA end,” Claire lied as she tried to stitch a convincing reason together, “I think I might know a safe spot within an hour or so that I can pull water from reliably.”

“Remember to take a tester kit, the machine won’t run if the PH is fucked.” Miranda dismissed as Claire suppressed a smirk.

“Got it, I’ll be back in a couple hours, keep your radio on. If I find something, we can start bringing the trucks out immediately.” Claire finished before she stepped out, satisfied that her pretense had been accepted. She made her way out to the edge of the village where three vehicles were parked; two trucks with fat tanks for liquids strapped to their beds and the battered Renault still running on its spare. 

It took Claire about an hour and a half, following road signs for Mount Ispititoare. She approached from the west, the road cutting along an increasingly steeper edge. The terrain was violent in this section of Iarna Valea, the guardrails of the roads constantly warning of the certain death that awaited inattentive motorists. The road wound in and around steep rises and falls, cutting through short tunnels blasted into the grey rock.

The roadway ended unceremoniously at the entrance to an old mine creatively named Mount Ispititoare Mines. Claire stopped in front of the rusted chain link fence and steel gate that blocked her path. She got out, feet crunching over gravel half permeated with frost, and approached the old lock and chain. She gave it a tug and grunted, irritated, before turning back to the truck. Claire pulled the truck back a few hundred feet, put the truck in drive and held the brake and the gas. She let the RPM’s climb before releasing the brake and lurching forward, the truck accelerated after a spit and tear of gravel and melted snow slush. It hit the fence with a metallic ring, the chain holding as the gate tore from its hinges and was dragged by the front end. Claire put the truck in park, the engine idling loudly and exhaust puffing as she stepped out into the abandoned mine. She was on a small plateau, the peak just a few hundred feet up a short hairpin road. Two massive pipes came over the edge of the ridge and plunged into a gorge at the far end. All around was a depot of abandoned and rusting mining equipment. Along the edge of the bluff, several buildings stood, rickety and rotting. Mining offices, storage sheds, machine houses for the cable cars that stretched across the deep abyss between the aggressive peaks.

Claire walked to the edge, near one of the housings for the lifts crossing the gorge and looked down. A fog was settled somewhere hundreds of feet down, whisps bleeding from the snow caps of the surrounding mountains and filling the basin.

“Christ.” Claire muttered, feeling a flutter of fear itch in her ankles and travel up her nerves into her chest. She backed away, taking several deep breaths. She was startled to realize her truck was still idling loudly, hardly idling actually. The engine sounded like she was still revving it, a cloud of white exhaust pumping from the outflow and billowing around the cab. Claire smelled burning oil and it clicked in her head.

“Oh no. No no no, don’t you fucking do this now! Not here!” Claire shook her head, trying to force herself to acknowledge the unfortunate reality and move quickly. She ran to the cab and tried to turn the engine off, yanking the keys from the ignition. She pulled her radio and her gun from the passenger’s seat and jumped out of the cab. Despite the ignition being off, the engine was still running away, grey smoke now billowing from the exhaust. It roared, wide open as it sounded like Claire had put a brick on the gas pedal. Claire just swore, the engine screaming over her, pitching up and up before there was a massive crack, puff of orange flame from under the hood, and the engine seized. 

“Mother fucker!” Claire shouted at the dead and smoking truck. She fought the urge to hurl her radio or her gun in anger, the explosion from the engine still ricocheting off the walls of the gorge around her.

Claire froze.

The sound was so loud still, rolling over the quiet woodlands and grey rockfaces and sheer dives into bottomless fog. She clicked her radio and raised it.

“Anyone on? This is Redfield. I’ve had serious engine problems and I’m dead stuck at Mount Ispititoare mines. I’m going to see if I can find something to scavenge and get back but its not looking good.” Claire groaned, realizing how badly this plan had backfired. She hadn’t even begun her search for Jill yet and she had called any infected monstrosities within earshot while also destroying her one means of escape.

“Shit, you ok?” A sharp reply crackled over the radio as Claire breathed a soft sigh of relief. “Sorry, this is Moira. We were changing shifts so Stephen said he can stay with the drill, the rest of us are coming out right now. Stay safe, I’ll call again when we’re close.” 

“Thank you. With luck that won’t be too hard.” Claire returned as she looked around the yard. In the corner there were several old trucks painted with stocky black lettering, “MI Mining Syndicate”.

“Bet keys are in the main office, doubt they’ll run but its worth a shot.” Claire muttered to herself. She didn’t know foreign makes as well as the classic American plus some notable imports- Toyota, Honda, etc.- but she could have sworn that those trucks looked far newer than the Soviet relic buildings around her.

It took Claire nearly thirty minutes to climb up to the peak. She had fallen into a trap of her own bravado thinking “That’s not too tall, should be an easy hike” before realizing the steep gradient of the winding road would be far more taxing than first thought. The thin air of the high altitude further slowed her down, Claire felt thoroughly winded by the time she crested the ridge.

It was beautiful, put simply. Claire looked out onto a glassy shimmer of reflected grays and blues, the caldera lake stretching farther than she thought would have been possible at this altitude. It seemed so whimsically out of place, a body of water this high in the mountains. She saw more structures on the far side. Concrete, brutalist looking things, buildings in long rows like store houses or barracks. Claire turned to her left, a litany of mining buildings constructed on rickety steel lattices over the lip of the crater.

“Must be incase the damn thing overfills or something.” Claire shrugged as she approached. The slat steel buildings did not fill her with confidence, their integrity further called into question by one of the cable car buildings already ripped from its foundation and threatening to slide down into the abyss. Most of the buildings were connected by a series of catwalk-like porches used as additional storage. They were littered with rotting crates and plastic barrels of long left chemicals. Or maybe just water. Claire was here for keys and forced the other observations out of her mind.

She made her way up a short staircase near what looked like a pumping station for the massive pipes slithering out of the lake and down the mountain side. She entered the building, her nostrils greeted by a stench of must, stale air chilled to near freezing and old dust and dirt settling into every corner of the entombed mining operation. Claire welcomed the reprieve from the whipping zephyr of mountain winds as she quickly strode through the halls, her boots falling hard on the frozen metal and announcing her presence to every ghost that may have haunted the mine. Two buildings over and she was in the mining office, a sad medley of abandoned cubicles and open desks. Worn placards with Russian writing directed Claire around the empty office as she squinted. It was frustrating and alien, the layout unintuitive as she searched for anything that felt official. After several minutes rifling through drawers selected at random and angrily storming through back hallways, Claire stopped at a locked door. She had circled a few times and knew by the layout that it had a to be a decently sized office by comparison to the others. She threw herself against the old, brittle wood and felt it crack. Emboldened, Claire stepped back. She charged the door, the door splintering around the hinges as it carried Claire to the floor inside the office.

Claire stood, brushing loose splinters of wood and dust off her pants and jacket before looking around the office. It was plain, most things packed away into a stack of decrepit cardboard boxes along one wall. Claire caught sight of a metal cabinet behind the desk. She tried the handle, locked. Claire growled with impatience and withdrew her pistol. She slammed the butt into the center of the steel door, and it bent sharply inwards. Claire grabbed the edge of the deformed door and with a hard tug, wrenched the cover open. Several keys were hung up on thin hooks, letters and numbers assigned to them which meant nothing to Claire. She grabbed them all and shoved the mass of jumbled keys into her jacket pocket.

Claire stepped out; her boots stomped in a brisk pace as she tore back through the adjoined buildings. Something near unease had began to settle in her, like the stale, thin air and dust she had kicked up during her search. By the time she had the keys in hand it had roiled into a near panicking desire to leave. Claire threw open the thin steel door to the pump room and stopped. The door swung back on its hinges with a tired creek ending with a soft and satisfying thunk. Her footsteps still echoed. Not echoes, matching sounds. Steadily they grew before halting themselves.

“Keep calm, controlled breathing.” Claire muttered to herself, eyes scanning the dark pumping house, the only light coming from rusted holes in the roof and walls, casting a myriad of beams of tired, soft light from the grey skies outside. Claire reached for her gun and drew it slowly, the solid steel comforted her as she gripped it hard. Claire stepped forward, wincing at the soft creek of the old floor, bits of laminate on a steel subfloor announcing each footfall. Claire took another step and a shadow fell in front of her. Large, sudden and violent. It crouched low and screeched an earsplitting note at Claire. She turned to flee, rounding on the door she had just let shut behind her and was startled as it swung open.

Jill didn’t wait for Claire to react; she was on her in only a couple strides. She struck Claire’s handgun with the back of her hand, sending it skidding across the floor. Claire grunted, trying to round a punch on Jill, hoping to stun her and run. Jill caught Claire’s wrist and wrenched it down. Claire stifled a cry of surprise and pain as she was forced to move with her arm, turning her back to Jill. She seized Claire’s other arm and brought it to meet the one she already grabbed. Jill pulled a bundle of climbing chord from her belt and wound it tightly around Claire’s wrists.

Claire squirmed, Jill yanking hard and pulling Claire up against her body, wrapping her gloved hand around Claire’s throat.

“Make this easy, for once, please.” Jill practically hummed into Claire’s ear. It wasn’t a threat or a demand, but it lacked the distinct pleasure of a request. Claire’s mind raced trying to process any number of retorts she had thought for her next encounter with Jill. Something tough, angrily expressing her disdain for being left in the streets of Atriebiba Gorod twice now. Something personal, driving hard towards whatever was crushing Jill, offering help and trying to be the friend she needed. Something pleading, something desperate and tearful.; She wanted to tell Jill how bitterly alone and cavernously afraid she had been feeling for weeks now. She wanted to beg her to let her in, to help her find a way out of this.

All while Claire scryed through her visions of dreamt and planned conversation, Jill cinched a tight bond around her wrists, pulling the rope upwards and coiling it around Claire’s upper arms. She wound it tight, taking the last length of the nylon climbing cable and pulling it around Claire’s chest, tying it off with a hard tug. Claire yelped as she was pulled from her near daydream, shuffling her pinned arms and tossing her shoulder as she struggled. She turned, glaring at Jill, a slight heat in her cheeks as she gasped, straining before giving up on her struggle.

“Where is Moira and the rest.” Jill asked coolly, hands resting on her hips as she looked down at Claire. 

“This is nicer than the last time I was getting a forced lecture from you.” Claire fired back, deflecting the question as she half turned around to indicate the bonds twisting around her arms. “So, we’re up from zip ties in an abandoned factory to rope on a mountain lake.”

“Climbing gear is easy to find among the junk up here.” Jill scoffed a reluctant laugh, shaking her head. Her brow furrowed as she seemed to force the mirth away. It took effort as Jill scowled not all convincingly at Claire. “What are you doing here.”

“Oh, well—” Claire mused, catching the crack in Jill’s armor, determined to drive a wedge through it as hard as she could. “You’re about two, almost three weeks late. You still owe me dinner.” Claire took a step towards Jill as she spoke, flashing a playful smile. Jill let out a gruff, dismissive sound and looked away as Claire drew close, daring to walk right up to Jill.

“I—I know things have been impossibly, insurmountably hard for you.” Claire waxed serious now, inside Jill’s orbit. “My team talks about you like you’re a monster. So do the locals.” Claire dared as the leather of Jill’s jacket groaned, her arms folding tightly across her chest. “I don’t believe that, never, not even for a moment. Jill, I will not give up on you. In a horrible and misguided and desperate way, I think you’ve been trying to do what you think is right. Just because I’ve tried to stop you, just because I think you’re wrong, does not,” Claire paused as Jill turned to meet her eyes, both a shimmering blue in the low light, “does not mean I’ve given up on _you._ ” The last word cracked in her throat as Claire spoke. Jill inhaled deeply, unfolding her arms and letting them fall on Claire’s waist, as if afraid she would run if given the chance.

“I—you are wasting your time.” Jill’s voice was low, battered from carrying something alone, suffocating under its weight.

“I’m not. You aren’t a waste; I won’t forsake you. Jill, I’m here. Let me in because I won’t give up on you.” Claire stood firm as Jill raised her hand to Claire’s cheek. It was the same look she had given Claire in Bergatrollet, in Atriebiba. Mournful and longing, like she was staring at something she had passed in life, something she would never be, or never have.

“I want to.” Jill’s voice was in a cold whisper, rattling in her throat like she was on the verge of exploding in a violent, terrific emotion she didn’t want to overtake her. She opened her mouth to speak as a shattering crack broke the air. Jill screamed in a high and hair bristling howl of pain as something warm and wet splattered over Claire. Jill clutched her side, the coat torn and slick, glistening red in the low light of the pumping station. There were several echoes of lickers as they screeched with their master’s howl of distress. Before she could look, Claire was lifted off her feet, Jill carrying her further into the pump room, one handed. They stumbled to the ground in a corner office, Jill forcing Claire to the floor, and climbing on top of her like a feral beast. Her eyes were gleaming red and bloodshot as Claire glance from Jill’s face to the gushing wound in her abdomen.

“You wounded?” Jill forced the words through gritted teeth as she ran her free hand over Claire’s body, splattered with Jill’s blood.

“I—I’m fine, Jill please let me—”

“Liar!” Jill growled, breathing heavily, eyes screwed shut in pain. “You were the distraction, your fucking team is out there, grrrgh.” Jill hissed in agony as blood dripped in startlingly heavy strands from her hand. More gunfire picked up in the near distance, multiple weapons as the lickers continued their terrible chorus.

“Jill, I didn’t I swear, I swear I didn’t know they’d be here this soon.” Claire winced at the admission. It was the truth, but not what she needed to be telling Jill.

“You came here to kill me, you counted on it being you.” Jill growled, keeping her body over Claire’s as a sharp ping of gunshots tore through the flimsy and rotted steel of the building. “I was distracted, I wasn’t paying attention because it was _you_!” Jill was in tears, dripping off her chin as she began to shake. Whether this was from the pain of her wound Claire couldn’t tell.

“No, I would never do that, I wouldn’t!” Claire insisted as Jill let out a mewling sound that sent a shudder down Claire’s spine. It was bad. Jill’s blood was warm and distressingly wet on Claire’s thigh, soaked through the cloth of her jeans.

“If you wanted to take my life, you should have done it yourself.” Jill shuddered as she spoke, like the act itself hurt. “I was only ever yours to take.”

There was a heavy groan that interrupted Claire’s attempt to reply. Something in the pumping room fell, hard, onto the floor of the structure. The entire building shook, and the groan of stressed steel grew into a vibrato of damning crunches and whines. Jill and Claire exchanged a panic look as the building jerked again, the floor canting at a slight angle. The whole structure was crying out now, straining as it listed further, sliding from its supports. There was a beat and Claire was hauled to her feet, Jill summoning a fury of strength as the building tipped at an untenable degree. 

They were falling.

Claire heard herself screaming, the sensation of the floor dropped out from under her as Jill gave up the dash to escape. She hauled Claire up to a wood desk caught against the machinery in the center in the middle of the room. Jill braced her back against the desk and pulled Claire tight against her chest. There was a hard crash as the building was beyond saving, tumbling down the mountainside and into the gorge. Jill fumbled with the ropes binding Claire, desperate to undo them as their fall came to a crashing, sudden, halt.

Claire lost track of time, unsure how long she had been out. She strained her arms, groaning as a flare of soreness tore through her nerves. The ropes were slack, Claire untangling herself, unwinding them from her chest, and tossing them aside. The pumping station was crumpled, and the far wall had been sheared off. Claire stood, shakily and approached the edge. The building had landed on a wide ledge into the fog of the gorge, a deep ravine continuing downwards at a devastating angle that made Claire feel instantly dizzy. She looked to the ledge, the building pierced into the snow and stone, creaking as the roof sagged but gave no indication of falling any further. Across the ledge was what appeared to be a section of the mining office, towed down the mountainside by the connecting catwalks and piping. It dangled precariously on another ledge, snapped cables and crumbling walkway barely attached.

Claire’s mind snapped back to the present, whirling back into the collapsed building.

“Jill!” Claire screamed, keening and desperate as she looked around the debris littered room. In a corner, slammed up against the wall, Jill was laid amongst the shattered wreckage of desk she had braced them against during the fall. Blood was forming a small pool around her midsection. Her right arm was twisted at a savage angle that sent a gurgle of nausea through Claire’s stomach. Claire knelt in the small pool of blood, trying to lift Jill off the rumble and onto her back.

Jill groaned, pain painting her face as she whimpered in a desperate and pleading tone. Claire gasped as she struggled to lift her, setting Jill down as slowly and gently as she could. Jill’s eyes fluttered open, focusing warily on Claire.

“You survived?” Jill gasped, her voice coming in a labored wheeze. A bloody smile broke over her lips, a bead of red trickling down her chin as Claire held Jill’s cheek. She laid her head back and exhaled deeply before letting her mind slip into unconsciousness.


	13. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill wakes up in agony as Claire tries to dress her wounds. The master Plaga infecting Jill accelerates her healing, but Jill still struggles, pushing Claire away in her attempts to help. The pair are left with the immediate danger of dying of exposure after surviving the fall and rush to build shelter and light a fire. Jill welcomes the challenge, keeping it between her and Claire as she tries desperately to avoid the feelings that have been chasing her for weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm hella excited for the next chapter for reasons :P thanks again for all of you who have read this far!
> 
> Quick house keeping note, for those among you who have read my Bleeding Hearts Trilogy. Antidote will be finished! Some events in the climax mirrored recent events too closely (Namely the insurrection at the US capitol; had kinda a Tom Clancy moment with that.) and I am trying to revise it to be more sensitive to that. It will be finished though and work is underway!
> 
> Anyway, back to Jill and Claire cuddling in the cold.
> 
> "Static" By AK, Veela. This one I love for Jill throughout this story, just the melancholy longing from a distance as Jill wants Claire safe, but safe is far away from her.
> 
> "god.drugs.u" By Luna Shadows. My girls cuddle to this song.
> 
> "Swell" Twin Caverns. This song captures the tension still bitter between Jill and Claire. They've hurt each other, in ways fair and in ways misunderstood. They also care deeply for each other and this song captures that bitter affection well.

_“It’s better to die  
Than to live in the knowledge  
That you’ve done something  
That needs forgiveness.”  
-Andrej Sapkowski  
_

Jill felt the pain flood through her nerves as she woke, swimming up her spine as her back arched. She cried out as she felt her flesh slowly crawl, bone cracking, torn sinew seeking torn tendon and capillaries sealing and stemming the steady seep of blood, her body sewing itself back together at the behest of the plaga inside her. She felt it clawing at her nerves, coiling around her axons and trying to gnaw into her mind. She fought it, bringing her hands to her head and clutched at her temples as it felt like its legs where scratching around inside her skull. Jill’s arm caught fire, every alarm in her head crying out in desperate agony. It was working, the bone repairing rapidly, but it wasn’t done and the process threw her into a pain that she had only known once before, in Kijuju.

It didn’t sound like it was her screaming, Jill was outside her body tucked away into a corner in her mind. Her consciousness was retreating, unable to face the excruciating messages roaring over her nerves. Jill was afraid she was slipping, the master plaga taking its chance to seize the wheel while she was weak, take control and end her.

She almost welcomed it.

Something warm was pressed against her arm and she rose up slightly, a muffled sound worrying its way to her ear through the shriek of her wounded body. Jill’s vision grew a dull color; cool, soft light coalescing around an auburn silhouette. 

“Stay with me Jill, please. You’re ok, you’re going to be ok. I’m right here.” Claire’s voice was soothing and melancholy. Jill could see tears running down her cheeks as her face came into focus. It all flooded back to Jill in that instance; the fight, the fall. The betrayal came back to her and it hurt deeper than the gnawing, tearing sensation as the tendon, gal and muscle of her intestines regrew around the tunnel the bullet had carved through her abdomen. 

Jill gripped her wounded stomach with her bad arm and shuffled away from Claire, pressing her back to the crumpled steel wall in a lame scurry over the floor. A streak of blood smeared from under Jill as she moved, dimly red in the low, sheltered light. Her eyes went wide, she felt cornered, far more vulnerable than she could process as Claire stayed where she was knelt.

“You stay the fuck away from me!” Jill hissed, the heels of her boots slipping on the metal floor as she tried to push her broken body farther away from Claire. She didn’t advance on Jill, simply looked down at the ground and sighed. The wind howled around the decrepit building, snow blowing in through the large hole torn in the side of the building. It had grown bitterly cold and it was beginning to seep into Jill’s bones as she fought the quaking in her shoulders.

“Jill, please let me look at you wounds. I found a first aid kit and I—”

“You tried to _kill_ me” Jill tried to make the accusation sting, mustered the bile of anger and hate to spit at Claire. It failed and her words spilled from her mouth in a cracking whimper. It had hurt, more than the bullet, it colored her speech, and she gave up the fight.

“You’ve been all that’s kept me going. You know this, I’ve _told_ you.” Jill pointed in despondent accusation as her vision again went blurry. “I would have done anything to keep you safe. I have given up so much trying, and I know I haven’t been enough. I know I have failed you, but—” Jill inhaled sharply, taking a wavering breath that wheezed through her throat as if it scratched her all the way down to her lungs.

“You’ve been everything I’ve lived for. For days Claire, coasting on the dream of you getting out of this hellscape. You’ve seen what I am. I’m done, I won’t be getting out of this. I had given you my life and you had to take it anyway.” Jill gritted her teeth as she finished, forcing her face into an unconvincing scowl. Claire didn’t speak, the two women staring at each other as the wind howled and the cold sunk deeper into them. Claire sighed deep and shuffled closer to Jill. She squirmed, pinning her back against the wall, cornered and desperate to try and get away. Claire pulled the bloody edge of Jill’s jacket aside revealing an angry, but staunched wound. Jill’s shirt was torn and sickly brown with dried blood, cracking and falling in crusty flakes as Jill tried to hide it with her hand, also covered in drying blood. The flesh of her side was torn apart, black in center with chunks of muscle hanging from barely holding tendon. The wound should have been fatal, but it was closing all on its own. Not visibly, but it looked improved from what Claire had watched gushing from Jill not an hour earlier. Jill whimpered a low and heart wrenching sound as Claire lifted Jill’s hand away and pressed a clean patch of gauze to the savage tear. Her breath came in sharp, staccato rasps through her mouth as she grabbed hold of Claire’s wrist. 

“Jill, I have to, you aren’t going to die on my watch. Just because you’re recovering fast doesn’t mean you’re invincible. I really don’t want to see what happens with the plaga if you go septic.” Claire insisted as Jill shut her eyes and shook her head. Claire grunted in frustration, pulling her hand from Jill’s grip and resuming her work. Jill was too distracted by the pain to put up a real fight. Claire covered the wound and taped the gauze down. She cut the tape, tucked the roll into her pocket then moved to pull Jill’s jacket off her arm. Jill yelped as her broken arm cried out in pain. She tried to shove Claire away, her arm only crying louder. Claire grabbed the back of Jill’s head, fingers locked into her hair, and forced Jill to look her in the eye.

“I’m not trying to hurt you!” Claire resisted the urge to shout. She was angry now, exhausted. Even like this Jill was _literally_ pushing her away. Jill’s eyes where the same eerie, heterochromatic blend of soft blue and bloodshot red like the night in Atriebiba Gorod. She held Jill’s exhausted gaze, fingers tangled in Jill’s loose hair, now running a messy, dirty blonde as her dye continued to fade. “I’m not here to hurt you. I have never been here to hurt you!” Claire insisted, “you have to let me fix this.” Claire softened; Jill’s eyes locked on Claire’s. Jill’s eyes seemed to flicker, the red of one eye flaking and bleeding from her iris as Jill’s breathing became heavy and stable. 

Jill said nothing as Claire got back to work, bandaged the entry wound and wound a tight wrap of bandages around Jill’s torso. She finished with a makeshift sling for Jill’s broken arm. 

“You need to rest. You have a long way to come, even with the plaga—I don’t know, helping you, I guess? That doesn’t sound right.” Claire soothed as Jill tried to stand. Claire slid her arm under Jill’s to support her as she stumbled.

“I’m fine. We need to build a fire soon or we aren’t lasting the night. The furniture in here is just cheap pulp stuff. I don’t think it will burn long.” Jill dismissed as she straightened her back with an audible crack and satisfied groan. Claire sighed, not pushing further as she followed Jill closely. They stepped back through the remains of the pump room; the central machinery of the building had been ripped through the floor during the fall. In the center of the room was a snowy patch of gravely soil Jill indicated as the best spot to build their fire. They moved on to the exit Jill had stormed through when she took Claire by surprise, nearly a thousand feet somewhere else. Jill stepped carefully out into the snow, heavy, wet flakes swirling around her. The fog of the storm was thick around them, limiting vision to a couple hundred feet in front of them. 

The gorge was hundreds of feet wide, the far edge blending with the swirling, smokey haze of the storm. The sky above them was a wash of gray and white colors, churning and spinning in the wind, utterly erasing any sign of the peak they had fallen from. The wall of the canyon was scraped and pitted from where the pumping room had fallen. The structure had left pieces of steel foundation and large sheets of exterior paneling littering the flat ledge.

Jill let out a long sigh that billowed around her in a white cloud. She raised her good hand and pointed at the half of the mining office sitting precariously a hundred yards along the canyon wall, loose cables and pipes stretching delicately from the pumping room to it.

“I’d be willing to bet there’s a Soviet war cache in that building.” Jill griped as Claire raised an eyebrow, brushing gathering snow from her hair. She drew up close to Jill, clutching her arms around herself as the cold wind lashed her.

“A what?”

“War cache. Soviet commanders were always paranoid, especially near the end. The USSR both officially and unofficially would stash essentials, weapons, food, water, and whatever in official buildings. Everything from gas stations to grain elevators. I’m willing to bet there’s something in that building.” Jill explained as Claire’s brow furrowed.

“Looks a little too risky to try. At least right now.” Claire returned as Jill coughed up a dry laugh.

“That’s like saying I just got a bruise on the way down.” She remarked cynically as she turned back to the wreck of the pump room. “I’m thinking some of this sheet metal can keep the worst of the wind off us tonight.” Jill filled the windy silence as she looked through the cracked doorway of the pumping station. She wandered to a short hallway and tried a steel door to what she assumed was a storeroom.

“Here, one of yours is already fucked. I don’t want you pulling any weird muscles.” Claire interjected, brushing Jill’s hand away as she gripped the door handle. The fall had bent the frame and wedged the door tight. Claire braced and pulled hard, the door groaning before swinging open. A stack of wood palettes had fallen against the it and began to fall forward as Claire swung it open. She felt Jill’s arm wrap around her before she could react and was pulled away. The heavy wood clattered out in a large pile as Jill held Claire tightly against her, both taking a deep breath. Jill held firm, Claire rested her hands on Jills arm and relaxed. She leaned backwards, pressing herself against Jill. She felt the steady rise and fall of Jill’s chest, warm against her shoulders as the arm around her waist squeezed just a bit tighter. A lock of messy blonde hair fell across her face as she turned her head inward to Jill’s shoulder, Jill’s cheek brushing against Claire’s forehead.

The palettes would have hurt, maybe even broken something at worst, but Claire had not felt like she had been in any immediate danger. She might have well been looking down a horde of molded alone for the rapid grab from Jill. She was on a hair trigger, for better or worse. Claire let it happen, leaning into Jill’s touch, letting her hold on without a struggle like she had time and time again over the last few weeks. In the cold instance, she leeched warmth from Jill’s body and let her mind swim back to the way Jill had treated her in the locker room of Bergatrollet airport.

This must have become too apparent, Claire silently hoped it hadn’t come out in an involuntary hum or sigh of pleasure, but Jill pushed her away in a second all the same. 

“Be more fucking careful. This place could be a death trap in any number of ways.” Jill spat, red in the cheek as Claire turned to face her with folded arms. She scoffed, exacerbated beyond dignifying the statement with a response as Jill moved to the fallen palettes. She pulled one out of the stack and stomped through the wood with her heel. She rolled her neck, stretched out her good arm and grabbed the splintered piece. She ripped it from the palette, nails pulling from the cut of two by four, and tossed it to Claire’s feet. 

“Come on. We gotta break these down for the fire.” Jill insisted after a second of awkward staring. Claire snapped back, eyes lingering on Jill’s arm as she tore another section of wood off. 

“Yeah I—yeah, I got it.”

They pulled a dozen palettes apart until Jill was satisfied with a belt-high stack of wood. Claire began moving them in bundles over to the center of the room. Jill stepped back outside, dragging in several large sheets of debris in with her. She lent them against the piping that still hung from the ceiling, crafting a broad lean-to to shield them against the large hole on the ravine side of the building.

Claire tended to the task of fire building while Jill searched for the handgun she had knocked from Claire’s hands earlier on the mountaintop. Claire used a small knife from her belt to shave large flakes from the dry wood, building a pile of wood chips at the center of a teepee made from desk legs and broken palettes. Jill returned, after several minutes of searching, holding up Claire’s handgun with a triumphant smile. She dropped the magazine and pulled out several round. She popped the one in the chamber too, setting the gun down.

Jill carefully worked the bullets out of three rounds and poured the gunpowder onto Claire’s bed of wood shavings. When she had a satisfying little pile of black, Jill loaded one of the empty casings into the gun, racked it, and pointed the muzzle at the powder. When she pulled the trigger, the primer sparked in the empty shell, the bright flickers traveling down the barrel and landing in the awaiting powder. It flared brilliantly for a moment before smoldering down into an orange glow in the woodchips. The light, aromatic smell of burning pine filled the makeshift shelter they had built up as Claire laughed, hands shaking with glee. She pushed the burning pile deeper into her fire and gently blew on the embers.

Within minutes the warmth was tangible, the fire bright and rackling as Jill sat on the opposite side from Claire. After lighting the fire, securing their survival at least for the night, Jill had gone cold and distant again. The temperature was plummeting outside and even with the fire burning, Claire felt the occasional breeze lick her back and send her into a fit of violent shivers. 

“So,” Claire started nervously after staring at the fire in silence, “How are we getting out of here?” 

“I really don’t know.” Jill groaned dismissively as Claire hung her head and wrapped her arms around her knees. The cold was getting to her as she tried to lay down, the ravine dark all around them now. It was worse on the ground; they had scavenged several rubber mats from the storeroom to keep the cold steel off them at night, but it was still freezing cold. It got bad enough that Claire caught her teeth chattering as she fought the now savage quivering in her bones and the feeling of ice in her joints. 

Jill heard Claire’s heavy and shaky breathing over the crackle of the fire and sighed. She stood, reluctant, and circled around the fire. She sat behind where Claire was lain and reached into her coat. She pulled out an energy ration she had from her stores in the Umbrella bunker and offered it to Claire. She took it gratefully, without a word, hoping having something in her stomach would help stave off the cold.

“Are you cold?” Jill asked, nervously after a few minutes, after the soft crinkle of the ration’s wrapper had gone silent. Claire didn’t say anything, she just nodded as she shuffled closer to Jill, her back against Jill’s leg as she sat behind Claire. The plaga was running her hot and she could feel how cold Claire was, her back pressed up against Jill’s thigh. Jill let out another long breath, slowly pulling her long coat off her shoulders. The cold stung the bare skin of her arms, but she knew she could bare it much easier than Claire. She reached to drape the coat over Claire and was grabbed. Claire took Jill’s wrist and pulled her arm around, tugging Jill’s hand to her chest. Jill followed, half falling as she propped herself up on her elbow. She exhaled sharply through her nose and gave in. She laid down behind Claire, drawing the coat over both of them like a blanket. Claire tugged tighter, drawing Jill closer, forcing her to relent. Jill let her, shuffling closer as she held Claire close. Her violent shivering began to settle, and Jill felt Claire’s fingers weave in between her own. In several minutes, Claire's shaking stopped, her chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. The heavy winter coat kept their warmth in and the fire banished the cold from their cheeks. Jill rested her head behind Claire’s, listened to her steady and shallow breathing, felt her chest rise and fall against their hands. Jill tried to relax, scared to find herself left alone with her thoughts.

Jill could finally process the disaster of what had happened, make sense of what Claire had insisted. It didn’t feel like this had been an assassination, Jill had seen the truck die in the mine; or, more accurately, her lickers had smelled it, and heard it. She had also heard Claire’s unmistakable voice. If she had really come to get to her, then she was showing a Chris-like stubbornness to try and save her when all odds told Claire to turn tale and run. She really hadn’t given up on Jill.

A cold tear ran from Jill’s eye as she stroked the back of Claire’s hand with her thumb. She couldn’t let her stay; Jill had made the decision days ago. She was on a path that led only to death, and she couldn’t bring Claire with her. Claire was too good to simply give in to a doomed idea, to accept that there was no hope. Jill was making the choice, the only choice she had left. She would sacrifice herself for Claire and the rest of the survivors the way Barry had for her. She was sat on a nuclear reactor, slowly poisoning into a nuclear bomb. She needed to find a way to get Claire out of this ravine. She had to live, and not just because of the promise Jill had made to Chris. Jill was going to die, there didn’t seem like there was much harm in owning the secret, at least not to herself.

“I love you.” Jill whispered in a hoarse admission, tears flaring hot in the corners of her eyes. Claire did her best to stay still, she wanted to keep Jill convinced she had slipped into an exhausted sleep.


	14. The Demons and the Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [CONTENT WARNING]  
> [GRAPHIC SELF HARM/CUTTING]  
> [SOME SEXUAL CONTENT]
> 
> Jill wakes from one of her near constant nightmares, Claire tries to comfort her before being pushed away again. Jill storms off to find some supplies to keep the alive long enough to develop a better plan. She returns, keeping her icy demeanor and Claire decides she's done being pushed out by Jill.
> 
> If you have a strong aversion to either content warning but really want the fundamental plot beats of this chapter, please comment and I will send you a filtered version.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter, the one, the section I've been dying to write since I came up with this project. It's a littler rough, so please head that warning, Jill tries to guard her emotional wounds just like her physical ones and Claire is done with it. Jill is going to let her in to help or she's going to make Jill hurl her over the cliff.
> 
> It ends sweet I promise :)
> 
> "Fade to Blue" by Roniit. This is for that scene at the end of the chapter. Trust me, you'll know when you get there XD
> 
> "Lost it All" by Jill Andrews. For the scene just after Jill's nightmare
> 
> "Innocence" by Cannon Division, Soren Bryce. For the fight between Jill and Claire
> 
> "Roardin" by Marcela Bovio. A softer look at the fight between Jill and Claire, more to when they've exhausted each other and Claire is making her case to Jill.

_“I loved you completely.  
And you loved me the same  
That’s all  
The rest is confetti.”  
-Eleanor Crain _

Jill stirred, feeling something cold touching her shoulder. She rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up. Her beret fell from her head as she stood, her mind swimming. Her hand instinctively went to the handgun on her hip. She dropped the magazine of the STARS emblazoned pistol and sighed. Three rounds, she was impossibly low on ammunition. A fan slowly spun in the stale air of the laboratory, the last gasps of a dying ventilation system.

_“I have to find Chris.”_ A thought punctuated Jill’s disorientation. She heard a metallic skittering sound coming from the vent in the corner of the room and she ran for the door. She threw it open and stepped into a concrete corridor filled with damp air that wreaked of mildew and decay. At the end of the hall there was an elevator, some scrap of electronic equipment on the ground. Jill heard footsteps behind her, and she whirled. The door was gone, given way to another long stretch of hallway.

Rebecca and Barry where sprinting in her direction, Jill shocked and relieved to see them. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words she needed to say.

“Where’s Chris?” Rebecca asked as the pair caught up to Jill.

“He was supposed to be with you, what happened?” Barry demanded as Jill looked between them, dumbstruck.

“He, he was in the basement and—I needed to lift the security.” Jill stuttered, the memory of what she was supposed to be doing being fed to her in a panic. Rebecca shook her head mournfully as a gust of hot air hit them, ruffling her hair.

“It’s too late then.” Rebecca muttered as the corridor began to glow orange behind her.

“You failed him. You failed us.” Barry added in quiet eulogy as a plume of flame rushed into the corridor behind them. Jill turned and ran to the elevator, looking over her shoulder. The flames where soaring over the concrete towards them, but Rebecca and Barry stood still, staring at her. The flames overtook them, the rush of orange swimming over and consuming them in a horrible instant that filled the corridor with a sickening smell that made Jill wretch as she screamed. The wall of fire reached Jill and the was thrown backwards.

She hit something hard, metal. She groaned, steadying herself as she tried to get her bearings. What she had thought had been the sliding steel of the elevator door was actually the railing to a fire escape. An explosion sounded not a hundred feet from her, glass shattering and clinking down the side of a building. A loud scream preceded another muffled crash as Jill limped down the steep incline of the steps. She leaned heavily on the railing, less than one story off the ground when she heard her name called.

“Jill! Jill!” Chris’s voice carried over the din, reaching Jill as she made it to street level. Chris ran up to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

“You—you’re ok?” Jill managed, still breathless as a desperate smile broke over her mouth.

“Yeah, things are going to hell fast I need—”

“But, the mansion, Becca and—” Jill’s stomach turned as she felt nauseous with guilt. Chris’s expression moved from relief to dismay.

“I know, we can’t let what they sacrificed be in vain. We have to get out but, Claire’s here.” Chris rushed through his words; Jill struggled to keep up.

“Wait, your sister is here?” Jill shook her head, only vaguely sure where she even was. 

“She probably went to the police station to look for me, but—look she’s tough but this is too much.” Chris continued as there was a thunderous crash and tumble of bricks behind him. A large humanoid creature emerged from a hole in the side of the building, a kind of black fabric wrapped around it, covered in yellow warning labels. It raised an arm and pointed at them, bellowing a low, gravelly note.

_“STAAAARRRS._ ” 

“Go!” Chris implored, shoving a handgun into Jill’s grip and pushing her away. “I’ll hold it off. Get to Claire! Keep her safe!” Chris shouted as Jill took off into a run. She rounded a corner in the alley and froze, a figure fast approaching her from the other end. His short blonde hair seemed to be drawn back in a matted, greasy sheet and his eyes flared red from behind a pair of smokey sunglasses.

“Wesker.” Jill growled, raising her weapon as he approached. He didn’t say a word as she fired, seemed to fade in and out of reality, dodging her shots and picking up speed. He was on her in seconds, swinging hard. Jill heard a sickening crack as she took the first hit to the ribs, doubling over. She caught a glimpse of his fist before it connected with her jaw. Everything went black.

Jill jolted back into consciousness and bucked, thrashing to get up. Her heart rate soared as she looked for Wesker, for Chris. He arms where held down by a series of nylon straps. She was on a frigid, steel observation table. Above her a vicious looking machine; a hideous mechanical spider of limbs clutching saws, needles and one gleamingly red device.

“No!” Jill croaked in more a of a whimper then she had intended. Fear coursed through her as she bucked again. 

“No!” Jill howled, thrashing so hard she felt the straps cut into her arm.

“You are the last of your cohort, Ms. Valentine.” Wesker’s voice filled the room through a tinny loudspeaker. The mechanical jumble of limbs above her hummed to life, the servos shuddering as it was powered up. “Ms. Redfield is the last of the targets, and you will be the one to take her down.” The voice taunted as Jill screamed. It was a noise of rage and fear as the arm of the mechanism lowered, bringing the device closer to her. Jill hissed as the freezing metal connected with her skin. She tossed harder, the clawed edges cutting into her.

“You will be the perfect weapon.”

Everything went dark and Jill felt weightless.

“Jill!” Claire’s voice broke through as Jill felt the horrible sensation of falling. She gasped like she had been underwater, lungs filling with cold air. It smelled like cold metal, wood smoke and the unmistakable scent of the person she had tracked with her lickers. Claire had her arms wrapped around Jill as she quaked violently, tears running from her eyes as they shot open. Jill saw Claire’s face focus in her tired, blurry vision, felt her hand on her cheek. Something in her broke, shattered as the voice telling her to harden herself, to push Claire away was shouted down. Jill threw herself to Claire, wrapping her arms around her torso. She knew she should have felt some shame, Claire so shocked she didn’t react at first. Jill didn’t care, Claire was a light cutting through the darkness in her mind and she clung to Claire like her life depended on it.

Claire didn’t speak, recovering from the sudden shock and slid her arms around Jill. She was sobbing into her shoulder, unhindered by pride or a desire to hide her emotions from Claire. She was pouring herself out, having held too much in for too long. Claire ran her hand over Jill’s back in a slow, steady line. She could feel Jill’s chest expand against her as she drew a ragged breath, a soft keening sound directly in Claire’s ear as Jill tried to hold back another torrent and failed. She let herself fall against Claire anew, all other needs aside as Claire swayed steadily. She made a soft shushing sound, unsure of what to say.

Jill began to quiet after a few minutes, fingers still pressed against Claire in a death grip; like she was afraid whatever haunts had come for her would tear her away if she relaxed even a little. 

“I’m sorry.” Claire muttered in a dry whisper. Jill said nothing. “You were crying in your sleep, started shuffling and I was worried.” Claire continued after a deep breath. “I tried to wake you and—” Claire’s voice cracked as she felt a hot streak fall over her cheek, “You screamed my name.”

Jill stiffened in Claire’s grasp, relaxing her grip on Claire’s back. She tried to pull away. Jill was halfway sitting up, propped up on Claire’s legs as she knelt beside Jill. She nearly fell as she attempted to move away, Claire reluctantly loosening her grip.

“I need to check your wounds.” Claire insisted, trying to come up with a reason to keep Jill close, one Jill couldn’t immediately dismiss as her icy demeanor was quickly freezing back over her posture.

“I’m fine.” Jill grumbled as Claire adjusted her position and place a hand on Jill’s waist, fingers catching the hem of Jill’s shirt.

“You are so very far from fine.” Claire chortled, shaking her head as she lifted the Jill’s shirt, holding the blood-stained cloth above the bandages wrapped around Jill’s abdomen. Jill didn’t protest further as Claire peeled back the bandage and stifled a gasp. The skin around the wound was an angry pink hue but the damage was significantly healed. It would have taken anyone else weeks to reach this stage. The tear in Jill’s side, the exit wound, was little more than an angry patch of scar tissue, raised and pitted, covered with flaky, scaly skin. Claire gently ran her fingers over the skin around the wound, pressing with her thumb in different places.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Just sore.” Jill returned, grabbing Claire’s hand and slowly pushing it away. “I told you I’m fine.” Jill now snapped, standing abruptly, groaning, and nearly falling back over as she did. Her whole body was sore, muscles crying out as they resisted her brain’s command to move.

“I can tell it still hurts.” Claire shot back indignantly.

“Well, I’m glad you know by body better than me. Fuck off.” Jill spat back as Claire folded her arms over her chest and frowned.

“Jill, sit down. Talk to me rather than push me away for one damn time.” Claire insisted, trying to fight the anger out of her tone.

“I’m gonna find somewhere to go to the damn bathroom. Don’t let the fire die.” Jill deflected as she slowly took a few steps towards the back of the building. Claire sighed but didn’t follow, tossing one of the pieces of broken pallet into the fire.

Jill limped to the door in the back and paused, catching her breath as she lent on the door frame. She forced herself forward out onto the cliff’s edge.

The storm had died down, but the heavy cloud cover still obscured the peak above them. Jill willed her body forward, trying to think, trying to come up with a way out. She looked up, across the tangle of pipe, torn steel and wire to the mining office.

“War cache.” Jill muttered to herself as she approached the edge of the chasm. 

Jill tested the strand of tangled conduits and piping that hung lazily over the gorge with the toe of her boot. It groaned and sagged as she put some weight on it but didn’t crumble. She took a deep breath and leaned her weight onto it and stepped over with her opposite foot. She gripped a power cable, long dead, that hung above her, bolted to the pumping station and still threaded through the corrugated walls of the mining office a few hundred feet off. Jill shimmied slowly; a thin sheet of ice had built up along the pipes as they rocked in the wind. She made the pathological mistake of looking down as she got several feet out. Bits of crumbling ice fell from her steps, floating down into the mist of the ravine and out of sight. Jill heard no sound indicating a landing and fought a chill running from her waist to her shoulders. 

She was thankful for her heavy winter boots, the textured soles biting into the brittle ice as she methodically made her way across. She hissed as her ankle slid on a thick layer of ice and Jill felt her body carried into a slight swing. She gripped the wire above her hard, bringing herself around and planting her foot firm. She steadied herself, exhaled a cloud of nervous breath and then froze as the piping below her began to creak and sag. A six-foot section of pipe cracked from its icy sheath and tilted downward, Jill quickly advancing towards the mining office as the pipe began to collapse. She gained the ledge as a wide section of pipe fell into the gorge, the rest held up by the sinuous bundle of cables and conduits that ran with the piping.

“Gonna be a lot harder to get back.” Jill grimaced as she watched the black section of pipe tumble into the fog of the ravine. She turned back towards the half-crushed structure in front of her.

The side entrance to the office was open, the door laying in a bent heap in the snow. Jill ducked under the collapsing frame and stepped into the ruined office. Desks were crashed up against one wall, light fixtures shattered on the floor. The roof sagged, powdery snow floating in from a cleave between the metal slats. Jill shuffled through the wreckage, the soreness in her body forcing her to take it slow. She would need her strength for the return trip. 

Jill pulled open a weak wooden door to the back of the office, the slab of timber clattered to the floor as its hinges failed. Jill side stepped as it kicked up a cloud of dust and loose snow before she stepped over and entered a mess of a storeroom. Her boots crunched over broken glass and pieces of shattered plastic. She took large steps over the debris, eyes scanning the corners for anything. Her hopes had been well founded, along the far wall was a simple yellow sign, faded Cyrillic lettering bringing a smirk to Jill’s lips. She stumbled over a fallen shelf and knelt besides a heavy metal footlocker bolted to the wall.

Jill took her knife from her belt and bashed the pommel into the rusted lock. The latch broke and Jill yanked the metal away, popped the clasps and opened the lid. Inside was a large canvas duffel bag. She unzipped it and let out a sigh of pure relief. Inside where tightly packed sealed rations, winter gear, what looked like a full medical kit, tent, tarps and more tightly nestled into the large bag. It was enough to have made the risk worth it.

Jill stood, hoisted the bag up and slung the handles over her arms like a backpack. It was heavy, Jill worried the extra weight could be too much for her return crossing. She carefully made her way through the rubble of the office, her shoulders already screaming at her by the time she made it back outside. She tested her footing on the pipes again, slowly shifting her full weight onto them. She kept her stance wider, trying to spread her footprint out over as much area as possible. She moved slow, carefully over the ice until she reached the hole left by the collapsed section of pipe. Jill tested her footing on the wires that still bridged the gap. They sagged under her foot, groaning in deadly warning as Jill retracted and took a deep, quavering breath.

She tried to gauge the distance, forming the idea that if she extended herself as far as she could over the edge, she could, with a light hop, make the jump. She began to shuffle to the lip of the remaining pipe and reached her left leg out over nothing. The sensation made her head spin, cold wind fluttering the cuff of her pants around her boot. She reached out as far as she could, fighting a shaking nervousness. Jill shifted her balance, prepared to jump and the ledge she was standing on fell out from under her.

Jill didn’t scream, didn’t panic, she just steeled her grip on the wire above her, feeling both legs now hanging into nothing. She took a deep breath, kept her eyes closed and slid her hand down the wire. It jolted, a pinging note of tension ringing over the now taught line. Jill kept up a steady shuffling pace, feeling like the moment was dragging into hours. She felt something solid tap the side of her boot and she opened her eyes. She was at the other side. Jill scrambled onto the ledge, taking several steps away from the chasm and laughed. She had made it back with enough gear to secure their survival, at least for a few days. Maybe longer if most of the rations weren’t too far gone. 

Claire looked up as she heard Jill walk back in. She barely caught a bundle of fabric tossed at her. She stopped it from tumbling into the fire and looked up at Jill with a scowl.

“Zero degree sleeping bag, you should be plenty warm without me tonight.” Jill spat as she hefted the duffle bag off her shoulder. “Canned food and some old military rations in here. Spoil date is still a few years off from most, probably gonna be foul, but you’ll survive.” Jill added as Claire set the bundled sleeping bag behind her. “I need peace to think through this, so don’t fucking bother me unless the building starts sliding off the edge of the cliff.” Jill finished as she stood and stormed off again. Claire narrowed her gaze as Jill turned her back but didn’t pursue. Instead, she stood and approached the bag, looking through the different options Jill had secured for them.

It took Claire nearly half an hour to try and make out what was in each can by a sleuthing method that involved examining pictures, shaking the contents by her ear and trying to make sense of the nutrition information on the sides. With some melted snow and a small camp mess kit from the bag, she was able to make sort of stew from some canned potatoes and what she thought was supposed to beef jerky. It tasted more of salt pork and gruel than anything really appetizing, but she called it a victory. 

Claire filled a tin cup with her stew simulacrum and timidly searched the edges of the building. She hadn’t watched Jill when she stormed off but hadn’t been worried about finding her again. She circled the exterior, fighting the urge to call out for Jill.

“Where the hell did you go?” Claire hissed under her breath, clutching the cup to keep her hands warm as the wind whipped through the battered structure. She reached the back and ducked into one of the storerooms, then into the pump operator’s office. Jill was stood by an old wood desk, bolted to the floor among fallen shelves and spilled files. Beads of sweat were dripping from Jill’s brow, her coat set on the desk. She sucked a harsh breath through her teeth as her hand moved slowly over her stomach. Her shirt was rolled up, her skin bare. Several red lines were cut into her side, blood running down to her belt as she pulled her knife over her skin. It looked methodical, the top cut already closing, the bleeding stopped as a fresh stream ran from Jill’s newest wound. 

Claire dropped the cup, the tin clattering loudly to the ground as its contents spilled and steamed against the cold steel. Jill looked up sharply, her eyes blazing red as she saw Claire.

“What the fuck are you doing!” Claire shouted as Jill’s lip curled in a snarl. She clutched her wounds and pointed the knife at Claire.

“The damn parasite has to be kept at bay, when I’m wounded it’s too busy for me to worry about fighting it.” Jill spat.

“And I’m sure there are better ways to handle this than cutting up your stomach!” Claire shot back. “I patched you up damn it! I’m not letting you undo any more of my aid work in this shitty, fucking Valley!” Claire shouted now, stomping towards Jill. She batted the knife Jill pointed at her away, trying to get a closer look at Jill’s wound. Jill charged Claire, knocking her to the ground. Claire grunted as she fell back, glowering up as Jill circled around her.

“Leave it! I’m fine, its handled.” Jill spat, her shoulder crying out from the strike as Claire scrambled to her feet.

“You are the farthest thing from fine! We are going to bandage you up again, get the fuck out of this ravine and then get that damn bug out of you!” Claire insisted as she followed Jill back out into the main room. Claire grabbed Jill’s shoulder and was thrown up against the nearest wall. Jill had swung, landed her open hand on Claire’s chest and pushed her hard. Even with her good arm, Jill was feeling her muscles rebel, warning she didn’t have much to give. Claire’s back hit the weak wall and tumbled through it with a muffled “oof”. She rolled over and stepped back through, Jill unsure where to retreat to next.

“No!” Claire was screaming mad now, pointing an accusing finger at Jill. “You do not get to just push me away again! Not when I’m trying to help you!”

“This isn’t about me. Stop thinking of ways to get me out of this. It doesn’t matter.” Jill countered, circling around the fire, trying to keep distance between her and Claire.

“What the fuck does that even mean? Jill, of course you are getting out of this. Stop acting like you’re on some doom driven mission! That’s what doesn’t matter!” Claire insisted, relentless, charging Jill. They collided and Jill used Claire’s momentum against her. Jill was sloppy, her arms quitting before she had finished the move and Claire pulled her down with her. They hit the ground and grappled, Jill getting the upper hand easily, pinning Claire on her back, Jill favoring her good arm.

“The mission is the only thing that matters! Barry died so I could stop this, Becca died so I could stop this!” Jill insisted as Claire struggled to get leverage.

“And you think this is what they would have wanted? You, fighting a losing battle alone, poisoning yourself just to accomplish a mission that will get you and thousands of others killed?” Claire fought back, swinging a sloppy punch against Jill’s bad arm. The pain was instant, hot and blinding. Jill recoiled, grasping the barely healed arm as Claire shuffled away. Before Jill could react, Claire was behind her, trying to restrain her. 

Jill rose to her knees as Claire stood, wrapping her arm around Jill’s neck in a tight headlock. 

“This isn’t about what anyone wants, Claire.” Jill coughed, both women now breathing heavy, taking a moments rest in the stalemate. “You don’t know what I’ve seen, how destructive these things become, how far the people who unleash them will go.”

“You’re right.” Claire breathed as she kept a firm grip, Jill’s strength still failing as she tried feebly to escape the hold. “I don’t know what you’ve seen Jill. I know that you probably think losing a few thousand for the chance at save tens of thousands is worth it. I bet you’re running the Racoon City math in your head.” Claire took a deep, gasping breath, gripping Jill tighter as she struggled. “But when we start turning lives into numbers, we’re lost.”

“It’s a matter of triage.” Jill hissed. Claire felt the muscles in Jill’s back flex and in an instant, she was hurled forward, back crashing against the steel floor. Jill stood over Claire, breathing heavy as her friend groaned at her feet. It had been a harder throw than Jill had intended, her strength gone and any measure of finesse out of the question.

“If I need to die to save a million lives, then my life doesn’t matter.” Jill declared as Claire rolled to her side, coughing as she curled up in pain. Jill looked away, feeling ashamed and defeated despite being the one still standing. “I wish I knew that I could keep you safe before I had to die. The plaga is already in me though I—its done. I’m not going to be able to get back to the states or anywhere else that could get it out of me. Becca was the only person in country that could and she’s—” Jill trailed off as she shut her eyes and shook her head. Tears silently ran from her eyes as she remembered the plane crash, the shoot down nearly a month ago that felt like years. “I cannot stop now, no matter what I have to keep fighting.”

Without warning, Claire abandoned her wounded act and swung her arm out as hard as she could. She took out Jill’s legs and she fell to the floor, Claire scrambling over to her. Before Jill could counter, Claire had straddled her torso, locked her thighs against Jill’s sides and pinned both her wrists to the floor. Claire’s breath came in heavy pants as her hair hung in disheveled strands, staring down at Jill, not a foot away from her face.

“That’s the problem!” Claire choked up, fighting back tears as Jill stared back at her. “You have been trapped in this fight your whole life! RC, Umbrella, the rise of bio-terror, hunting Wesker and now this.” Claire broke, tears trailing over her cheeks as she spoke. “It’s all you know. It’s the only way you’ve ever known how to face these things. You’re good at heart Jill, so much so that you’ll never run from people who need help, but all you can do is fight or die. You can’t think of any other way and there are _so many_ other ways. Barry and Rebecca don’t want you to die doing this. Your life matters Jill, you are worth so much more than what you can give to other people. You don’t have to be a martyr!” 

Jill was transfixed, too weak to pull away or toss Claire off, all she could do was listen. It cut deep, Claire went right into the things that haunted Jill, stalked her every move. Claire was in her mind, walking the same path Jill knew so well, the tour her demons would take her down every time her past would boil to the surface and taunt her with every time she had failed. Every time someone else had died and she had lived. If Claire could give her the answer, she would do whatever she said, but Jill doubted she had it.

“You are using yourself like the weapon people tried to turn you into. You aren’t Jill. Look what this fight has brought you, look at what it has done to others. I’m not asking you to give up.” Claire inhaled deeply, trying the clear the shakiness in her voice. “Just for once, choose something other than fighting, choose something other than fighting me.” Claire finished, her breath weak, voice nearly a whisper as she watched the bloodshot harbinger eyes of the plaga melt back into Jill’s soft blue. Her hair was in a sprawled mess behind her head, mostly blond now, her dye faded. Claire’s grip on Jill had weakened, Claire’s limbs numb from shaking and a nervous tension. She felt she was near breaking; she could only handle Jill’s icy demeanor for so long. She would never give up on Jill, but she could only take so much before she gave out.

Jill slid one of her hands out from under Claire’s grip, propping herself up on one elbow. Claire sat up some, didn’t push back, Jill wasn’t trying to escape. Jill lifted her hand to Claire’s cheek, her fingers brushing over her skin, wet with tears. Jill’s thumb brushed the last of Claire’s tears from the corner of her eye, fingers reaching for the nape of Claire’s neck and curling in a firm grip. Claire held her breath as Jill pulled her in, bringing their lips together in as smooth and gentle motion. Claire took a moment to react, unsure if she could even believe it; the silly, high school daydreams that had unfolded in her mind giving way to a harsh and lovely reality. She accepted it, kissing Jill back as she placed both hands on Jill’s face, cupping her chin in her palms as she parted her lips and pushed back into Jill.

There was a pause, Jill pulling back for a breath, wrapping her arms around Claire as they held each other.

“I promise, I’ll get us out of here.” Jill whispered. Claire kissed her again, pushing Jill onto her back.

“I don’t want to go anywhere right now.” Claire laughed, lips brushing against Jill’s as she spoke. Jill smirked, slid her hands down to Claire’s hips and in a firm motion, rolled her over onto the sleeping bag laid out next to them. Claire giggled as Jill slid up next to her, running her hand over Claire’s arm, tracing past her fingers and dancing over her thigh.

“I don’t think I’d let you.” Jill smiled as Claire tried to hold back another giggle. She wrapped her arms around Jill’s neck, kissing her again as Jill’s thumb traced the edge of Claire’s waist, hooking into the hem of her jeans. Jill’s heart was thrumming hard against her ribs as she moved, a sudden realization dumping ice into her veins as she pulled back suddenly. Claire looked confused and dejected as Jill looked away.

“This isn’t right.” Jill muttered in a hoarse voice, like a cough had caught in her throat and decided to stay there.

“What isn’t? Are you worried about the plaga?” Claire asked, concerned, before forcing a smile. “Cause I don’t think I can catch it.”

“No it’s—its you.” Jill admitted, unable to meet Claire’s gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt Claire’s warmth, she had slid herself even closer to Jill as she looked away. 

“Thanks, none taken.” Claire huffed, trying to keep herself in a good humor.

“No I mean—” Jill shook her head, forcing herself to meet Claire’s eyes again. “How could you say no to me right now?”

“I know, right?” Claire laughed as Jill sighed. “Sorry, talk to me Jill.”

“I’m a lot stronger than you.” Jill started as Claire’s face turned serious. “I can control a pack of bioweapons and I’m probably the only way you can get out of here. I have done my best to keep you safe and to keep your friends safe but—that doesn’t mean,” Jill huffed in frustration. She took a few seconds to search for her words. “You don’t owe me this. I don’t want you to think you owe me this, yourself I mean. I’ve put us in a situation where the—well I hold more cards than you right now, it wouldn’t be right for me to take advantage of you like this.” Jill finished, sitting up now, Claire following, not taking her arms from around Jill’s neck.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how,” Claire started, shaking her head with a nervous smile. “This is why I like you.”

“Claire, please, I”

“If you are not comfortable, we can keep separate sleeping bags if you need, but” Claire traced her finger over Jill’s jaw, guiding her chin so their eyes met. “I’ve never been intimidated by someone bigger, stronger or smarter. I’m a scrappy, clever, stubborn woman who can make decisions for herself. I want you, Jill, if you want me. Consider this an unequivocal and lucid ‘yes’.” Claire finished as Jill smiled.

“I do, I really do.” Jill murmured, nearly under her breath. Claire grinned, reaching down and took Jill’s hand. Claire lifted it to her lips, kissed Jill’s fingers.

“Good.” Claire returned, kissing Jill’s hand again. It was delicate, a gentle press of her lips against Jill’s skin, flushing them with a heat beyond just her touch. “Piano, explosives, lockpicking, you can do a lot can’t you?” Claire dared as Jill blushed. She almost laughed; she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been made her cheeks go red.

“I can.” Jill summoned all her confidence for the reply, lowering her voice as Claire flashed a bright grin. She parted her lips and lifted Jill’s hand to them, sliding Jill’s middle and ring finger into her mouth. Claire held them there for a beat, her lips resting past Jill’s second knuckle. Claire held Jill’s eyes as she withdrew Jill’s fingers from her mouth, keeping the motion slow, her tongue brushing the tips. Claire kept her hold on Jill’s wrist, guiding to her stomach, letting Jill’s fingers slip past her belt, and past her waistband. 

“Use them to keep me warm.” Claire purred as she leaned against Jill.


	15. Run Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill and Claire are rescued by the TerraSave survivors. They turn on Jill after realizing she's still alive and it doesn't go in their favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jill is in a deeper inner turmoil than she has ever felt, but feels a form of contentedness in admitting everything to Claire. She feels more resolved to go to her death to protect Claire even though she has more to lose than she had ever had before.
> 
> "Need Nothing" by VERITE. Jill's inner monologue, how she hurt for disappointing Claire but believed she had to go forward with her plan to keep Claire safe.
> 
> "Devil Devil" by MILCK, This song makes me think of Claire's struggle, feeling like, especially now, that she's facing two versions of Jill. That she needs to defeat one and save the other.

_“I think you are confusing suicide with self-destruction.  
And they’re very different.  
Almost none of us commit suicide  
Whereas almost all of us self-destruct.”  
-Jeff VanderMeer _

Jill was warm for the first time since she and Claire had tumbled into the ravine. Night had fallen with the temperature, frigid winds rattling around their makeshift shelter. Their fire burned bright; a gentle crackling orange fed by more pieces of broken furniture and pallets. They had pulled out a blanket from the stash Jill had recovered, lined the sleeping bag and tucked in close together. 

Jill’s fingers traced the smooth line of Claire’s spine, lazily brushing over the bare skin of her back in a gentle press, a constant reminder she was here. Claire was lain on top of Jill, lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of Jill’s chest, where she rested her head. Jill couldn’t sleep. The combination of her nightmares that lurked on the edge of her consciousness and her desire to be present in this moment kept her awake. Claire’s arms were wrapped around her shoulders, her legs tucked together between Jill’s. Jill felt a mixture of terror and peace, swimming around her brain like oil and water. She felt safe, and it terrified her; this moment was not real. The Valley awaited them above, the monsters, the fear, and her death. Jill laid her head back, shut her eyes and tried not to cry.

She felt an itch in the corner of her mind, familiar now. Jill turned to look towards the edge of their shelter. The wind blew flecks of white over the blackened edge of night, an unmistakable, predatory shadow lurked just out of sight. It let Jill catch the link again, she smelled molded, heard fighting between the lickers and other bioweapons.

“Go.” Jill commanded without speaking. Even if the licker could be of help getting out of the ravine, not at night. Jill told herself this as Claire inhaled deep, bare skin pressing warmly against Jill. She suppressed the urge to sigh as the shadow melted back into the night and she slowly shimmied one arm out of the sleeping bag. Jill tossed another piece of splintered timber onto the fire before returning her arm to the warmth of the blanket draped over Claire. Sparks shot upwards as the new timber landed among the red flicker of white and black embers, the thin strands of splinters curling on the fresh wood, glowing red as they caught.

Claire stirred as Jill adjusted, sliding herself against Jill with a soft groan. She placed her hand on the side of Jill’s throat, touch warm and delicate. Claire kissed Jill’s neck, the bridge of her nose brushing Jill’s jaw. Claire held her lips against Jill’s skin, parting for a short breath before kissing her again. She hummed softly, ran her hand over Jill’s neck, over her chest and then looped her arm under Jill. Claire gave Jill a soft squeeze before she rested her head down, loose hair spilling over Jill’s shoulder. Jill wasn’t even sure if Claire had been fully awake as she idly ran her knuckle over the curve of Claire’s back.

_“Treasure it.”_ Jill thought, knowing that this moment was the last true calm she would likely ever feel.

Jill shot awake, surprised from her dreamless sleep as a loud metal clang sounded on the roof above them. Claire woke with a startled murmur as Jill gripped her tight, looking around for her knife or Claire’s gun.

“What is it?” Claire grumbled sleepily as Jill held her finger to Claire’s lips.

“Listen.” Jill whispered softly. Echoing off the walls of the valley where the distant sounds of voices. They called out into the chasm and as Claire focused, she recognized the owner.

“Moira!” Claire exclaimed, beaming as Jill laughed. Claire rolled to her side in the sleeping bag, sliding off Jill as she sat up. Jill grabbed her coat, her knife and stretched.

“Probably saw us down here, looks like its pretty clear out today.” Jill groaned as she felt her back crack into place with the strain of her arms over her head. Her soreness had faded now, she felt her strength returning. She looked down at Claire, sitting up with the blanket around her shoulders, arm covering her chest.

“So, you choose now to become suddenly modest?” Jill teased with a curl of a smirk. Claire stuck her tongue out before responding, Jill laughing as Claire spoke.

“It’s still fucking cold; you were my heater all night. Toss me my shirt, I don’t want to leave the sleeping bag to get it.” Claire pouted as Jill shook her head. She retrieved Claire’s shirt, coat and gloves and waited for her to dress. Jill strode out onto the ledge and looked up. A long, steel cable gleamed in the hazy sunlight of the morning. It was about as clear as one could hope for in the Valley, and Jill could make out the peak nearly a thousand feet up. 

“Claire! Grab what you want to bring with you and one of the climbing ropes from the bag.” Jill called back into the ruin of the pumping station. Claire emerged in a couple of minutes, clutching her coat tightly around herself and handed Jill bundle of nylon climbing line and two harness belts. 

“Looks like your friends found a heavy winch cable. I don’t know if they can see us, but I figure if we give it a good tug, they’ll real us in just to see what they caught.” Jill mused, the light wind fluttering the edges of her coat.

“Seems like a fair bet.” Claire shrugged, looking at the cable sway lazily, something heavy anchoring it to the roof. Jill led Claire over to the side of the pumping station, knelt and help lift her to the edge of the roof. It took Claire a minute to find purchase, standing on Jill’s shoulders as she looked for a way up onto the icy steel. Jill took a step back and bolted to the wall, running up two steps and clasped Claire’s awaiting hand, careful not to yank her over the edge as Jill swung herself onto the roof. The cable had a heavy hook at its end, a small coil of loose gauge around where it lay. 

“Should be an easy ride.” Jill muttered to herself, kneeling and examining the hook. Within a few seconds she had taken the climbing line and harnesses, fastened them to the hook and stood. “On.” Jill ordered handing Claire one of the harnesses. She obeyed, silently, helping Jill tighten her belt before looking her in the eye. 

“We’re gonna get out of this together.” Claire insisted as Jill gripped Claire’s harness and pulled her close. She tilted her head and kissed Claire, holding for a moment as she grabbed the cable dancing above them and tugged hard twice.

“Hold on.” Jill murmured as Claire pulled back, the distant whirring of an engine spinning up. The winch above pulled the cable taught with a ringing note that traveled in an echoey wave up and down the side of the gorge. Within thirty seconds, Jill felt her harness tug against her body, and she was lifted from the surface of the roof. 

The ascent was slow, but uneventful. Jill kept one hand gripped to the cable and the around wrapped around Claire, the pair slowly turning as the winch lifted them higher. Several minutes after they had begun, they crested the peak, the winch cable held out on a short crane limb attached to the bed of an old mining vehicle. Moira cried with relief and glee, running from Lauren’s side by the controls. Orla and Miranda helped bring them to the stony ground as Claire and Jill undid their harnesses. As soon as they where free, Stephen and Robert grabbed Jill’s arms, standing firmly on either side of her as Miranda pointed a rifle at Jill. She was forced to her knees with a grunt.

“We should just throw her back over the edge and be done with it.” Robert hissed. Moira was helping Claire out of her harness when she turned to see her companions. Claire shoved Moira aside and ran at Miranda, grabbing her rifle and pushing the muzzle away from Jill.

“No!” Claire hissed, staring angrily into Miranda’s eyes. She stared back with an icy resolve that sent a shiver down Claire’s spine. “You were the one who shot her.” Claire breathed in disbelief.

“It’s what needed to be done Red. Your personal feelings are getting in the way of everyone’s safety. Step aside so we can end this.” Miranda spat back as Claire glared at her.

“I’ll kill you before I let that happen.” Claire growled, feeling an anger churn in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time. A blinding rage that yearned to tear out Miranda’s throat for what she had done to Jill.

“Claire.” Jill spoke up from behind her, voice calm, like she was calling for her attention across a dinner table. “I’ve got this one handled.”

There was a scrape of bone on cold metal as Claire looked to the roof of the winch truck and saw a licker crouched low atop it. The TerraSave survivors glanced around as more climbed up from the gorge, emerged from the surviving buildings of the mine. They were surrounded.

Miranda wrenched her rifled from Claire’s grip and swung it across the field of bioweapons circling them, unsure of which target posed the biggest threat. There was a shrill screech and the pack lunged. Miranda’s rifle went off once as Claire shut her eyes, hearing a scuffle, shriek of pain and surprise, groans of defeat. When she dared to open here eyes again, Miranda was lain on the ground, face pressed down to the earth by the muscular arm of one of Jill’s lickers. Lauren was pinned to the side of the truck, two lickers clutched Moira in their claws, pinning her arms to her sides. Orla had been knocked to her back, one of the beasts pinning her and two more had wrestled Stephen and Robert to the earth like they had Miranda. Jill stood slowly, brushing her shoulder off with a gloved hand and approached Claire.

“Please,” Claire breathed as Jill removed her climbing belt and drew closer, “don’t hurt them.” Claire felt hard metal behind her, she had backed up to the trucks bumper without realizing it as Jill drew closer.

“I won’t.” Jill muttered, just to Claire. She stood close, reaching her hand out to touch Claire’s cheek and stopped. Her fingers curled tentatively, close to Claire’s face as Jill studied her eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”

“I am afraid _for_ you.” Claire insisted, her expression solidifying into firm, declarative frown. Jill opened her hand and let her gloved fingers brush Claire’s cheek.

“Get out the way you’ve found and don’t look back.” Jill spoke up, the voice of the BSAA commander suddenly full in her throat. “There’s an old Umbrella bunker hidden in the mountains and I’m going to blow its reactor.” Jill looked around the group, held hostage by her pack. “I’m going to kill the Valley and stop this outbreak.”

“You can’t!” Orla shrieked, the licker on her snarling.

“How could you expect that to even work?” Lauren scoffed, surprising Claire as her gaze darted to the younger woman. Jill smiled, a dark expression that Claire hated on her face.

“Smart one? Engineer? No, military type. I can see it in your posture, in your face.” Jill started, addressing Lauren. “There are access tunnels beneath the reactor room of the bunker. They have been filled with water. The reactor has been poisoning in a xenon pit for two days now and I’m going to cut the power to the pumps. The electrical is hooked into the Valley’s grid as a fail safe but all substations routing power to this sector have been either shut down or destroyed. The reactor will explode, melt down and hit the water in minutes after I scram it.”

Lauren’s face went white, Jill’s explanation not meaning much to Claire, but the look Lauren gave, matched with her stunned silence was enough. Jill was still going to kill the Valley, all along. Had she even reached her down in the ravine? Had Jill even considered her words?

Jill turned back to Claire, expression melting into the soft and longing look she had given Claire each time they had met and been at odds. A face Claire was disturbed to see return.

“You can survive this. Promise me you will.” Jill whispered, her arm sliding around Claire’s waist and pulling her tight to Jill. Claire buried her head against Jill’s chest and whimpered, fighting the urge to fall to her knees and sob.

“Stop this. You said you would. You _promised_ me you would.” Claire begged, looking up at Jill with tears in her eyes.

“I promised you I would get you out of this. I will do what I have too. Stay safe, keep your friends safe.” Jill leaned down and gently, timidly pressed her lips to Claire’s. She responded by throwing her arm around Jill, one hand cradling her head, fingers tangled in Jill’s loose, blond hair. Jill reached up, gently grabbed Claire’s wrist and pulled it away. Claire didn’t catch on to what Jill was doing until she felt the coil of rope pulled tight around her wrists. 

Jill had bound her hands and lashed the line to the bumper of the truck Claire had backed up to. The line was looped into the steel and tied out of reach of her fingers. Claire bucked, growling as the truck rocked slightly on its suspension. Jill had already stepped away as Claire looked for her.

“Jill! Jill! Don’t you fucking leave me!” Claire howled as she heard one of the survivor’s vehicles start up and then drive off. Claire was dumbstruck, the full weight of what happened striking her to her knees. She shut her eyes; a creaky sob coughed from her throat. She didn’t care for the onlookers, still pinned by Jill’s pack. Claire knelt and cried for the Jill she thought she had glimpsed in the ravine, for the Jill which had left Claire to go to her death.

It was nearly an hour of tense silence, the occasional effort groan met by a chastising snarl or screech from one of the lickers. As if suddenly called, the pack gave up their post and bolted off, some diving over the ledge and others sprinting off towards the mining buildings. Miranda was the first up, grasped her rifle, shouldered and attempted to track the fleeing pack of bioweapons. She swore angrily under her breath. She wasn’t going to waste the ammunition on a pot-shot.

The rest rose warily, scanning for any sign that the lickers might return. They passed Claire without a word, still knelt, her hands held up awkwardly, tied to the bumper. Moira knelt by Claire after a moment, Orla fiddling with the knot. It took a second to undo the bond, Claire avoiding Moira’s eyes.

“What happened? Moira asked hoarsely, no accusation or anger in her voice.

“I thought,” Claire started in a raspy voice. She swallowed hard, collecting herself as she rubbed her freed wrists. “I thought I reached her. I thought I had got her to come around.” Claire shuddered. Orla took Claire’s arm, helping her to her feet. Moira moved in to support her too, Claire looking like she would collapse at any moment.

“We can still stop this.” Orla tried to reassure, looking to Moira for support.

“We know her plan, she told us so we could escape. Orla and I know we can pull her back.” Moira spoke up as Claire shuddered, trying to steady her footing. “If we stop this explosion, we can help you get to her.” 

Claire’s plaintive eyes met Moira’s. She was exhausted, Moira could see the weight of their time in the Valley on her, the sting of Jill’s abandonment. Claire nodded silently, inhaling deeply as she straightened her posture.

“We can’t count on the others can we.” Claire whispered. Moira shook her head.

“It took all we could to convince them to try and get you out of the gorge. Miranda said she had killed Jill and that you couldn’t have survived the fall. We camped up here for two days, waiting for the weather to clear before we found where the building had fallen.” Orla spoke low, glancing nervously at the cab of the truck.

“Ok.” Claire exhaled, nodding to herself.

“We have a secret bunker to find. Hooray.” Moira spat sardonically as Claire shook her head, an unwilling smile breaking over her lips.

“Shouldn’t be too hard. Umbrella has always had a flair for the dramatic and at least a little bit of predictability. I’m willing to bet it’s in what’s left of that silo across the lake.” Claire returned. “Go tell the others, we’ll come up with at plan before heading to the silo.” Claire finished as Moira moved off. Orla stepped to follow and was stopped by Claire’s hand on her arm.

“Orla I—you guys made camp here for a couple nights?” Claire asked nervously

“Yeah, brought some tents, food, clothes and such. Miranda said she didn’t want to spend more than five days searching so it’s not much.”

“Do you have, um” Claire paused shutting her eyes, “do you have a spare bra I could borrow? Mine is uh, still down there.” Claire gestured sheepishly towards the bluff. Orla shook her head with a slight grin,

“I bet I do, come on.”


	16. Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [CONTENT WARNING]  
> [MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH]
> 
> Jill makes it back to the bunker to put her plan into action as the TerraSave survivors become divided and hidden agenda is relieved in a deadly play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sad that this chapter had to happen, but I had felt it coming from the first moment I started writing this story. The events of the Iarna Valea crisis are going to weigh heavily on Claire.
> 
> That being said, we are almost finished, just four chapters to go! I'm feeling the itch, I might finish this by the end of this month! I may even finish another chapter by the end of this weekend XD. 
> 
> Wanted to say another thank you to everyone who has read, dropped a kudos and commented! It's super motivating and has kept me on this task!
> 
> "Until the Levee" by Joy Williams. This song has such a mournful foreboding that fits this chapter. The moment is heavy with what is about to happen in the Valley.

_“If you kick a dog  
It’ll crawl back, lick your foot,  
Begging for forgiveness.  
Kick a wolf,  
And it’ll rip your face off.”  
-Ivan Carerra _

Jill forced the sounds the lickers were feeding her out of mind and stormed off towards the reactor control room. It had taken far too long for her to circle the lake with the truck she stole from the TerraSave survivors and she was anxious to start the run down. The water had been draining into the service tunnels under the reactor’s bio shield, but Jill was certain there had to be some overflow or flood drain that would limit how long she had. This was it, what Barry had died so that she could do. If she didn’t kill this Valley, the continent could go under. The only reason it had become this dire was because she had failed at Bergatrollet, because she had failed to even realize that the mission was doomed from the start.

Jill sighed deeply, staring at the console in front of her, hastily labeled in her own hand with small notes and marker. She grabbed one knob and turned it, watching the reactor’s power output stall. The run down had begun.

After Jill’s pack had left, the TerraSave survivors struggled to regroup, two factions forming among them. It was first told by the obvious silence and disregard that Miranda, Robert and Lauren gave to Claire, Stephen focused mostly on the winch and Orla and Moira attending closely to Claire. 

“Well, so far we’re up one person and down one vehicle and way back.” Miranda spat, kicking at the soil. The mountain top was growing hazy, a heavy system of clouds rolling over the peaks and threatening new snow. The light was already starting to fade, winter days having grown short.

“I found keys to some of the trucks down by the other mining buildings.” Claire spoke up, Miranda regarded her with a harsh dart of a gaze. “Before I fell with Jill I mean. Why can’t we use this one?” Claire asked, tapping the bumper of the mining truck with the large, crane winch mounted on the back.

“Transmission is blown all to hell, barely got it over here.” Stephen spoke up, rounding the corner. He spoke with a significantly brighter tone than Miranda. 

“Then let’s go down and see if we can get something running.” Moira interrupted, trudging off to the service road that led back down the open yard of the mine.

Traversing the road downhill was significantly easier, barring the occasional patch of ice. They made it down in a few minutes, Claire trying the key in the doors of the half dozen grey trucks sitting out of place and only a decade old among the soviet relics. The third vehicle capitulated, and the door swung open. Claire hopped in, turned the ignition and heard a disappointing sputter of the last bit of ignition juice attempting to turn over.

“I don’t know what the fuck I expected.” Claire sighed, pulling the keys from the ignition as Moira laughed.

“Out Claire, let me pop the hood. Stephen, got any ideas?” Moira ordered as Claire obliged, handing the keys over.

“We start by jumping it, then see how bad the damage is.” Stephen shrugged. “We can use the battery from Claire’s wrecked truck she drove here. The diesel ran away but the battery should be fine.”

“I hope you’re not blaming me with shop talk.” Claire teased, the comment falling flat at the feet of Miranda and Robert’s scowls. Claire sighed, adjusted the hem of her coat and folded her arms across her chest. “What can we do?” 

“We should try and get the yard lights up, it’s getting dark.” Lauren spoke up, pointing to one of the mining buildings. “Bound to be a switch board somewhere in there.”

“I’ll stay and help Stephen figure this out.” Moira offered as the rest of the group walked off towards the largest of the mining buildings. Miranda opened the door, holding it as everyone stepped in and then made a great show of nearly slamming it in Claire’s face.

“This is getting fucking childish.” Claire thought to herself as she shook her head and let the slight go. They flicked on the lights to the building to help their search, the dusty building giving them all a little shelter from the building brisk wind outside. 

“Got it.” Robert called out in a flat tone from across the room. A yellow glow filled the yard outside as Claire exhaled through her nose and leaned against one of the desks, the rest of the group nervously milling around. Claire couldn’t help but track Miranda’s movements, rifle in her hands. Claire failed to realize she was scowling.

“The fuck you looking at me like that for Red.” Miranda spat as Orla looked nervously between them. Claire was shook from her thoughts, a slight delay between hearing Miranda’s words and realizing they were meant for her.

“Why’d you shoot her.” Claire didn’t bother to brush it off. She was mad. She wanted to grab the paperweight on the desk next to her and hurl it at Miranda’s head.

“Because she’s a fucking monster. Valentine has gone and transformed herself into some beast so she can gain power and wipe away whatever crimes she’s committed here.” Miranda spat, Claire taken aback by the sudden, sharp retort.

“What?” Claire stammered angrily, standing up as Robert went rigid, Lauren’s hands even slid along her belt as she paced nervously.

“She killed hundreds in Bergatrollet; unhinged, she killed the head of our outfit, killed Quintin, attacked us more than once and was directly responsible for Megan’s death and then burned another city!” Miranda’s voice built into a shout as Orla tried to shrink back into the shadows of the room and Robert failed to hide a satisfied smirk.

“Is that what you told her you piece of shit!” Claire directed at Robert now, fury burning hot in her face.

“Claire, please, I know Jill was your friend but, she’s something else now, she’s gone too far.” Lauren spoke up, trying to take a sympathetic tone.

“No! You don’t know what’s been going on here! None of you do! You don’t know what she’s been through!” Claire howled in anger now, Lauren’s face souring as Robert shook his head. Even Orla seemed to shrink back from Claire’s tirade. The room hung silent for a second, and before anyone could speak again, the lights went out in a sudden electrical drop. The hum died into the dark howl of wind, the lights in the yard out too. Even the streetlights along the road up to the mine had gone out.

“She’s cut the power.” Claire muttered, the realization dawning on her.

“Valentine’s about to blow the whole fucking mountain, it’s going to poison the whole Valley and kill every single one of us.” Lauren warned in a hiss of words as Claire regarded her darkly.

“We can stop it, feed power back into the reactor or drain the water she wants to use for the steam explosion.” Claire suggested.

“Or we could break in there and finish the damn job. Put enough bullets in her skull so that damn bioweapon can’t grow her bloody mess back.” Robert returned with an intent in his words that sent a shiver up Claire’s spine.

“You hateful—dick!” Claire was shaking with rage, forcing it down before she attacked Robert. “Jill’s wrong, I want to stop her, but we are not killing her!” Claire implored turning to look at the whole group. “She’s lost, hurt! She’s not evil! There is so much more to her than any of you understand.”

“There is more to her than this, but we think we understand it pretty well now, especially after today.” Miranda spoke up, a sly grin spreading over her face as she looked at Claire. It made her feel nauseous looking at that expression on Miranda’s sharp features.

“She’d kill all of you without lifting a finger. You’ve got nothing on her.” Claire retorted, feeling her hands quivering.

“You’re right on that first bit.” Lauren spoke up, sighing like she was admitting something she didn’t want to say.

“Very wrong on the second.” Miranda hissed. She cocked her head hard to one side and suddenly raised her rifle towards Claire. Robert tossed something to Lauren, and she was on Claire in an instant. 

“What the fuck is this?” Claire snarled, reluctantly raising her hands as she stared at the barrel of Miranda’s gun. Lauren came up behind Claire, holding a roll of duct tape as she passed. She grabbed Claire’s ands and pulled them behind her. She wrapped the tape around them several times before she grabbed Claire’s handgun from her belt and tossed it to Robert. 

“Leverage, to get to Valentine. Oh please Red, we all saw her stick her tongue in your mouth and you drank it up like a it was a glass of water in the desert. She won’t let anything happen to you.” Miranda sneered as Lauren seemed to be puzzling out how to further restrict Claire’s ability to resist.

“No!” Orla’s voice broke through in a timid shriek. Claire’s gaze darted to her and she had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. Orla had a small pistol in her hands, shaky in her grip as it was pointed squarely at Miranda. 

“I heard you two talking about this and its wrong!” Orla now regarded Miranda and Robert. “Claire is still in charge! You both will answer for this when we get out! The drill is nearly done and there are more survivors in this valley.” 

“And that’s why this has to be done.” Miranda returned calmly, keeping her gun pointed at Claire. “Put the gun down, Foley. You’re only going to get hurt.”

“No! You put yours down and cut—” a gunshot shattered the air of the room, cracking loudly in the small space as Claire flinched. In a second of raw fear, trying to feel if she had been the one shot, Claire’s gaze darted around the room. Robert’s hand was raised with Claire’s gun smoking in his grip. Orla had fallen into a desk and toppled to the floor, clutching her stomach and mewling softly as blood seeped from between her fingers. Robert kicked her dropped handgun towards Miranda as he walked over to Orla.

“No! Don’t you fucking touch her you bastard!” Claire howled, voice shrill and cracking as Lauren held her back by her bound arms. Robert looked impassively at Claire as she raved. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking rip your heart out and send your pieces home you mother fucking piece of shit!” Claire was bordering on incoherent as Robert loomed over Orla. He raised the gun and fired twice into Orla’s chest, red blooms staining her shirt as she shook, her mewling sounds of pain falling silent.

Claire screamed, her knees falling weak as she watched, the keening pitch of her shriek filling the room. It felt dissociated from her, like it wasn’t her own voice making that horrible cry. The air in Claire’s lungs expended itself as tears fell down her cheeks, she barely registered Miranda talking to Robert. The piercing words cut like a heated blade through ice, reaching through Claire’s veil of grief.

“Go shoot Burton before she catches on, she’ll be sure to turn on us.” 

Claire threw Lauren off with and abrupt toss of her shoulders and bolted for the door with a swiftness and strength she thought had left her. Miranda bolted after her in a moment, tackling Claire to the floor just outside the front door.

“Moira run!” Claire howled, cut off as Miranda pulled a strip of tape over her mouth and wound it around Claire’s head. Moira looked up suddenly, the truck running with Stephen in the driver’s seat. She caught on quick and exchanged a tense glance with Stephen.

Moira didn’t wait for Stephen to declare his loyalties. She punched him hard in the jaw, ripped him from the driver’s seat and kicked him in the ribs as he hit the ground. Moira was in the driver’s seat and the car was in gear when Miranda sat up, putting her knee into Claire’s back. The tires where spitting gravel behind them as Moira sped towards the open gate. The report of Miranda’s rifle came in steady, rhythmic cracks that reverberated deeply off the mountains as she shot at the truck. Claire yelped in muffled cries as hot, spent shells landed on her. 

Claire glanced up to see Moira’s truck reach the highway, picking up speed as white exhaust billowed out in the frigid air. 

“ _She got away._ ” Claire thought in bittersweet relief. She even dared to think Moira could get help, to stop whatever Miranda and Robert had conspired to do.

“What happened?” Lauren’s voice spoke up, shaky and dry. This wasn’t sitting well with her, clearly, but she had still gone along with the plan.

“Burton fucked off, but she’s at least out of the way.” Miranda spat, hauling Claire to her feet and roughly shoving her up against the exterior wall.

“Let’s go, that base across the water is where she’s going to be.” Robert spoke up as Miranda raised an eyebrow.

“On foot and what? Ring the doorbell?”

“Valentine will know. We put Lauren in the trees with your rifle and Valentine will come out when I put a gun to Redfield’s head.” Robert glowered at Claire as she returned it with all the hate and venom she could force into a gaze. He scoffed at the look, grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her towards the service road back up the mountain.

“Move.” He spat, Claire forced to comply as Lauren and Miranda flanked her.


	17. Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira returns to the tunnel sight and is reunited with someone she had thought she'd never see again. Claire and the TerraSave survivors turned traitor to their former aid captain, attempt to trade Claire's life for Jill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an intense and bloody chapter to write and I have to admit that, despite feeling this was the correct direction for the story, a little sad about how it went down. Jill's given up on herself and has for a while now and is pushing Claire as far away as she can in an attempt to keep her safe. So many people have died or almost have been killed attempting to keep Claire safe in the crisis in the Valley and the thought of losing Jill completely, on top of all the other deaths, is more than Claire can take.
> 
> "La Luna" By Azedia. A vibe for the stand off and Jill's reaction and rage.
> 
> "Scary People" By Georgi Kay. A mood for the TerraSave survivors and how they have let the fear and terror of the Valley get to them like it has so many.
> 
> "Kingdom Fall" By Claire Wyndham. I feel this mood deeply for Claire at this point, she's desperate not to lose more and is breaking at the edges. She can't be the steady leader anymore, that's gone. She just wants to get Jill back, to talk her down, to get her out alive.

_“Rage at injustice is universal  
The ability to strike back,  
Is not.”  
-Quellcrist Falconer _

The old truck shook over the country road, bouncing through potholes that rattled the rusting frame and threatened to tear the thing apart. Moira had left the highway miles behind, pushing the tachometer into the red and driving as fast as she dared to. She held out hope that some of the other survivors they had contacted, some of the locals maybe, could help her. Moira rounded a sharp turn, tail end of the truck swaying dangerously on a patch of black ice. Moira barely corrected, almost running the vehicle into a ditch as she picked up speed towards the tunnel project. If there was no one there, she would head off into the mountains, going between the villages they had reached out to and beg for help.

A peculiar sight greeted Moira as she reached the front gate of the tunnel construction site. The chain link fencing around the build site, lined with jersey barriers, was reinforced with plastic industrial containers stacked on top of each other. Moira put the truck in park and looked down the fence line. There was a crew of four men with a truck full of white and blue plastic barrels. Two were setting them into place along the fence and the other two were filling them with earth. Moira’s eye caught movement in her periphery and she turned back to the gate.

A man wearing tactical gear and carrying a short-barreled assault weapon was holding up his hand and approaching her window. His weapon hung from a strap against his chest and Moira could see the unmistakable patch sewn onto the shoulder of his uniform.

“Did the drill get through! I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am to see that stupid acronym.” Moira practically leapt from the cab of the truck as the BSAA soldier took a step back.

“Relax ma’am, we haven’t broken through yet. We’re just a small contingent of the BSAA mission here. We’ve been out of comms for a while, our flight in was shot down and we were only just now able to move from the wreck.” He returned in a formal, matter of fact voice.

“Who’s in charge for you guys?” Moira asked, eyes narrowing as she tried to roll back her enthusiasm.

“Dr. Rebecca Chambers, she’s had us set up here after hearing from locals that this operation is being run by the remaining TerraSave mission here, trying to make an evacuation route for the Valley’s civilians.” The soldier returned as a rush of relief was stymied by urgency in Moira’s gut.

“Take me to her, now.”

“Last clear pass I had, they said maybe four hours on their end. Even without enough water if we keep up at about half power, we can shave that down further.” Rebecca was leaning over a table with a series of notes and a makeshift radio hooked into a satellite phone. In the back of the tent was a hastily put together research station powered by a generator running loudly behind the tent. Moira’s hands were shaking when her eyes met Rebecca’s. She ran to her without a word as Rebecca let out a loud “oof” as Moira collided with her.

“Oh my god, Jesus fucking Christ.” Moira muttered as she cried into Rebecca’s shoulder.

“I thought you had died in this mess; I’ve heard about your father.” Rebecca croaked as Moira squeezed tighter. “Easy, easy, I broke a few ribs in the crash.” Rebecca tried to muffle the sound of a pained wheeze as Moira released her,

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Moira stammered, sniffling as she stepped back, wiping her eyes. “Wha—what happened with you?”

“We had a split-second notice before we went down.” Rebecca sighed, looking over at one of the BSAA soldiers flanking her, another woman was wearing a BSAA field jacket and was seated at the research station in the back of the tent. “I had a twenty-person research team and ten-man security detail. Only seven of us survived the wreck.” Rebecca sighed deeply, her face returning to a serious demeanor.

“ I was close developing a novel inoculant for a bioweapon the BSAA has been tracking for a couple years. That’s why I was a few days behind. Jill and Barry were briefed on our progress before they came in—” Rebecca sighed, catching her breath from speaking too quickly. “I had a sort of cure ready, but no field experience with it. It took my team and I a week to get out of the gorge our plane had tumbled into and found the Valley a mess. We ran into our first mutamycene BOW within a day and held position. I think it was a truck stop or something, but I inoculated my team and within another day we had our first close call. It worked so we tried it on a local village in exchange for supplies. They had some infected people, some of the advanced cases died when injected but did not turn, the others began to recover.” Moira was nodding along as Rebecca spoke, heart fluttering with a building hope, that she might be able to get out of this. “I’m sure this can be used to get the outbreak under control. The last contact the BSAA had before we were able to get a charge to my satphone was from Barry. He said that Jill had gone to take down the smugglers responsible for the outbreak and that he was enacting Gehenna Protocol.”

“That’s what Claire said Jill’s trying to do.” Moira murmured, the reality of what she had fled flooding back.

“Jill’s alive! Claire too?” Rebecca’s eyes lit up, hopeful smile fading at Moira’s expression.

“She is and she’s.” Moira took a deep breath and looked Rebecca in the eye. “She found an old Umbrella instillation with a reactor, I think. She’s going to melt it down, use a steam explosion to kill the Valley. Claire tried to stop her, we tried to stop her and some of our team turned on Claire, thinking she was too soft on Jill. They’re going to threaten to kill her if Jill doesn’t surrender. They already killed another member of our team, they shot at me when Claire told me to run.” Moira’s voice broke as Rebecca nodded solemnly. 

“She’s alone, she thinks there isn’t any other way to contain, we have to stop that explosion first.” Rebecca closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “We save the Valley; we can save Claire and talk Jill down. Let’s go.”

Claire grunted as she was pushed down to her knees, the muffled sound of pain coming involuntarily as her knees ground into the gravel road. Miranda passed in front of her, holding Claire’s handgun. The old Soviet base’s eerie, dark windows stared down at them as they looked at the parked truck Jill had stolen, door open and abandoned.

“She’s definitely here!” Robert called out, circling from around one of the long barrack halls. “There’s a BSAA truck back there, the security cameras are active too I think.” He added as he approached Miranda, who nodded. 

“Lauren’s in position.” Stephen spoke up, a soft shake in his voice as Miranda regarded him impassively.

“You’re shaking. Have a problem with this Miller?” Miranda spat, Stephen silently shook his head as Robert paced over to Claire. He grinned darkly as Claire glared at him, wrists numb as she strained against her bonds again. She felt her fingers scrape the gravel and an idea flashed.

“Alright Valentine!” Robert shouted as he turned, directing his voice out over the base. “Come out or we’re going to start taking Claire’s fingers! Take too long and I’ll put out her eyes!” 

“Christ, Robert.” Stephen muttered as Robert snapped to look at him.

“She didn’t kill your brother, Miller, I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Robert hissed, before looking back over at Claire. “I bet she’ll listen if you start screaming.” Robert added, grabbing the edge of the tape on Claire’s mouth. He ripped it in a hard, sudden motion that made Claire’s skin sting and feel raw.

“Fuck!” Claire tried to bite back the urge to scream, pushing it into swearing as she returned to her glaring stare.

“Go on Red, scream for your woman to come save you.” Miranda taunted as Claire looked at her. Something inside bubbled up, surprising even Claire as she let out a loud, near maniacal laugh. Robert furrowed his brow as Claire threw her head back and gave into the expression of glee.

“You, you are all so thoroughly fucked.” Claire was crying now, still laughing and shaking her head. “Jill was only sparing you because she thought you were helping me. Everything she has done, for better or for worse, has been for me!” Claire turned dark, her own words stinging in her ears. As much as they could hurt her, she knew they could be weapons _for_ her too.

“We get it, you two are a thing,” Robert rolled his eyes as Claire turned a confident and furious glance his way.

“So much more than that Jeffries. I am hers.” Claire felt she was crossing some presumptive line but hearing herself only filled her back up with a fire and propelled her forward. “I am hers; I belong to _her_. Do you get that? I am the most important thing to her; I can fight her all day long and she will never hurt me. Do you remember what she did the last time someone threatened me Jeffries?” Claire’s voice was low and dripping with a dark mirth which had made Robert fall silent and Stephen’s face go white. “Did he tell you, Miranda? Stephen?” Claire dared, looking around at her captors.

“She infected herself with a bioweapon, something she would have rather died than do, but she did it for me. She did it for me and when she came, she burned a city to the ground. She slaughtered anyone who had lain a hand on me and anyone who got in her way.” Claire was crying again, tears running down her face as she felt the truth in her threats. “She will annihilate you for what you have done. The only choice you have right now, is how quick and how painful it will be.” Claire words dripped with venom as a shrill screech shattered the soft breeze in the mountain air. It rose high, the note long and keening, echoing deeply off the mountains around them before cutting out. Claire’s lip curled in a devious smile as Miranda and Robert exchanged nervous looks.

“Shut her up again.” Robert hissed as Miranda forced the tape back over Claire’s mouth, grabbing Claire’s hair hard as she struggled. 

“Rooftop!” Stephen’s shaky voice creaked from his lips as he pointed. A licker was peering down at them from one of the barracks’ roofs. Its eyeless head seemed to track them, a chittering, chortle of a sound escaping its throat as there as a rustle behind them. Miranda whirled to see three lickers emerging from the trees beyond the base’s fence.

“More in the buildings.” Robert murmured. The barracks and old office building seemed to be slowly coming to life, several lickers emerging from broken windows and appearing at roof ledges. Miranda scowled and walked behind Claire. She raised the gun and pressed the cold steel of the muzzle against the back of Claire’s skull.

“You come out here yourself Valentine, or I blow her brains through her face.” Miranda shouted, looking nervously between the pack of lickers. There was a tense beat, Claire felt Miranda pressing the gun harder against her scalp. There was a shuffle of movement at the entrance to the main building, a silhouette emerged, striking blonde hair blown by a sudden mountain wind.

“What is this.” Jill asked in a flat, serious tone, her eyes avoiding Claire as she locked her stare on Miranda. There was a loud crack and Jill went down, Claire screamed into her gag as Miranda held her down by the shoulder. The pang of icy terror in Claire’s heart melted away as she watched Jill, with speed that made her dizzy, catch her fall. Jill landed on her knee and in an instant drew, raised and fired her handgun over the heads of Claire’s captives. Jill’s eyes glowed as there was a scream from behind them. Claire turned her head to see a licker drag Lauren from her sniper’s perch and pulled her towards the rest of the group. Jill slowly stood as the gravel crunched under Lauren’s body. Blood ran from a wound in her shoulder and from where the licker’s teeth had pierced her, but she was still breathing.

“Drop it!” Miranda commanded, Jill looking blankly at her. Miranda grabbed a tuft of Claire’s hair and yanked her head at an angle, pressing her gun to Claire’s temple. “I’ll kill her right now.”

Jill’s face was placid as she dropped her weapon and her licker dropped Lauren. Stephen ran over to check on her as the BOW’s retreated. Jill raised her hands slowly, unspeaking as Miranda held Claire. Jill’s eyes told Claire everything she needed to know, everything she could expect.

“On.” Stephen commanded, tossing a set of zip ties at Jill’s feet. Jill kneeled, picked up the plastic cuffs and slipped them onto her wrists. She pulled them tight with her teeth as Miranda sighed with relief, Robert grinned with a dark visage falling over his face. “We end this now.”

Robert took the gun from Miranda, smirked vilely down at Claire before he walked over to Jill. Her eyes tracked Robert as he approached, expression blank except for the fire burning in her eyes. Claire felt a rush of panic, moving before she knew she had ordered her legs. She threw her body back, staggering Miranda before she took off towards Robert. He was raising the gun to Jill’s head, a few feet away from her, when Claire struck him. She had picked up a stone of sufficient sharpness during the standoff, cutting into the tape around her wrists just enough that she broke free as they fell. Claire was still tangled in some of the snapping bonds, but she went for Robert’s gun, her gun. He wheezed as they grappled, the fall knocked the wind out of them. Claire heard a horrifying chorus of screeches rise up as she wrapped both hands around the handle of the gun as Robert tried to turn it on her.

Claire was stronger, only just, the remains of the tape wound around her cutting off some leverage as the weapon shook in their embattled grasp. Claire gritted her teeth and kicked at Robert, breaking his focus as the barrel of the gun began to sway towards him. His eyes filled with terror as the muzzle began to direct its unforgiving blackness at him. Claire strained as hard as she could, then crushed Robert’s finger against the trigger with all her strength. The gun went off and Robert’s head jerked back with a sickening suddenness. A band of red erupted out the back of his skull and broke over the gravel in a shining, dark stain. 

Claire wasn’t given a moment to process what had happened before screaming filled her ears. She turned to see three lickers descend on Miranda in an instant. The first didn’t waste a moment, its maw opened, and massive teeth sunk into Miranda’s throat. She went white instantly as another licker reached her, colliding with her torso and biting into her side. Her body pulled hard with the BOW, carried by the impact, torn from the first licker’s jaw in a gory shower that nearly cleaved her head from her shoulders. She hit the ground, dead, as her blood flowed rapidly over the gravel, bits of her pulled apart by the trio of monsters. 

Stephen had tried to run, only to be tackled by one of the predators. He never screamed, but Claire could tell by the violent shake of the licker’s head, that it had killed him. She didn’t see when, but Jill had freed herself but she was knelt next to Claire. She took the gun from Claire’s grip, prying Robert’s dead fingers from the weapon. Jill walked over to where Lauren lay, screaming with no sound leaving her lips anymore, and fired two mercifully precise shots. Lauren slumped over and Jill tossed the gun to the ground. She turned to Claire and let the blankness of her face fall away, revealing a troubled grief that Claire saw as more of a reflection than anything else.

“I’m so sorry.” Jill apologized; voice hoarse as she held a wanting gaze with Claire. Claire scrambled to her feet, kicked up gravel as she sprinted to Jill. She collided with her hard and threw her arms around Jill’s still bloodied torso. Her gunshot wound was healing fast, the plaga gaining more control with each moment. Claire wept against Jill’s chest as she hugged her back.

“I’m so sorry Claire. I didn’t want things to happen this way.” Jill entreated as Claire clung to her tighter.

“I know. You have to stop this. Please, for me, stop this for me. There’s been too much death.” Claire whimpered as Jill pushed her back.

“I can’t. I have to see this through.” Jill insisted. She kissed Claire gently, did not linger before stepping away. “Get somewhere safe, please.” Jill pleaded as she stepped off back towards the main building.

“No!” Claire screamed, a licker stepping in front of her as she moved to follow Jill. Claire snarled and kicked the licker hard in the head. Her foot wailed as it connected with the hard bone of its skull. She nearly fell, screaming after Jill again.

“Don’t you do this to me! After everything, you can’t leave me!” Claire howled after Jill, trying to pursue at a limp, a licker shouldered into her, knocked her to the ground. It was clear Jill had instructed them to obstruct her.

“Jill! You can’t do this!” Claire screamed again, fighting back the tears flowing over her face as the lickers circled her. They made it clear, Jill had no intention of backing down now, even with Claire left completely alone.


	18. Into the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire struggles to get by the lickers keeping her from Jill, helped and stunned as Rebecca and Moira arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so we are very nearly done! I know this was a wham-bam short ass chapter but it wrapped up neatly. Two more two go and I can say, with certainty, this will be finished this month!

_“Let experience wash over you.  
Absorb it like a sponge  
Expect nothing.  
Only then can you be prepared for anything.”  
-Quellcrist Falconer _

The reactor was hovering around thirty megawatts when Jill returned to the control room. The reactor was stalled in a pit of xenon gas which had been building within the core of the old, Soviet, RBMK reactor. Jill stared at the orange glowing number as she stood behind the controls. It was now hundreds of megawatts below operating range as Jill removed the safety controls and began pulling control rods out of the reactor. Over the next several minutes the power began to rise, peaking at two hundred megawatts. 

“We’re ready.” Jill sighed as she stepped out into the hall of the reactor level. She fired a message through the plaga’s neurons hooked into her system, calling the surviving lickers to her. The first arrived, its claws clanging through the elevator shaft before it emerged with a low hiss. It approached Jill as she drew her handgun and ran the slide.

Claire hit the gravel again, hard. The wind was shoved out of her lungs when she landed on her stomach, coughing as she struggled to get up. The licker had hit her harder this time. It was still avoiding seriously injuring her, its comrades had already fled, moving on to wherever Jill had instructed. Claire had been playing this game with the licker for a while now, the bodies of her former comrades starting to raise an odor of death.

Claire was relentless, gathered herself off the ground and sat, taking several deep breaths. She stood and faced the licker again, circling it as the beast matched her movements. Claire rotated until the main building of the base, the one Jill had disappeared into, was on her right side and the licker was directly in front of her. Claire swung her leg, dug her toe into the grave and kicked up as much of the rocky soil as she could, sending it into the Licker’s face. It did little, the creature blind by design, but Claire took off. She sprinted as hard as she could, hearing the creature screech and take off towards the loud crunch of her footsteps. It was on her in seconds.

Claire felt the front paw of the licker make contact with her back. The massive, bony, clawed mitt shoved her down to the dirt. Claire let out a muffled “oof” as she scraped her arms, trying to catch herself as the licker put its weight on her. The BOW let its momentum carry it over Claire. It spun and hissed as Claire groaned, her arms were shaking as she struggled to lift herself up. Claire glared at the creature in front of her, the eyeless head taunting her as it kept a fix on her. It chortled and hissed as Claire slowly stood. She was preparing to repeat the attempt to get by the beast when its head snapped unnaturally to one side.

The crack of the rifle arrived a split second after the bullet slammed into the licker’s skull. Claire’s eyes darted in the direction of the shot and for a moment, she thought she might have been knocked out by the last hit to the ground. Rebecca was knelt near the edge of the bluff, lowering her rifle and standing, Moira behind her. Moira cried out with joy as she ran to Claire, who nearly fell over as Moira hugged her.

“You’re ok, fuck, you’re ok, you’re ok.” Moira’s words tumbled out of her mouth as Claire returned the embrace. Claire opened her eyes for a second to see Rebecca smiling as she approached. Claire held an arm out to her, inviting Rebecca into her embrace with Moira. Claire took the moment to breath, a pause before getting back to the task at hand.

“I thought you were dead. We were told your plane crashed.” Claire asked, feeling a little foolish upon hearing her own words.

“Didn’t take.” Rebecca shrugged, stepping back before her face turned serious. “Moira filled me in, on Jill’s plan for enacting Gehenna Protocol. I had received a briefing before heading out here about the soviet missile silo, but we had no idea about the Umbrella Bunker. It wasn’t too complex; the service tunnels have a number of access points. The Umbrella exec types started adding them after Raccoon City, wanted to make sure they could save their asses should something breach containment.” Rebecca started in a quick, affirmative tone. “Moira and I got down there with only a little vertigo on the catwalks riveted into the mountain side, snow melt in the mountains can sometimes get bad so most facilities like this have some form of pump system in case a tunnel floods. The service tunnels under the reactor are clear at the moment, but that thing is still gonna contaminated the area.” Rebecca raised her hand as Claire opened her mouth to speak.

“I know, I got through to the BSAA on the way out, they are setting up a round of C-130’s carrying drops of sand and boron on route right now. It’ll keep the radiation down as long as we get dropping quick.” Rebecca added as Claire nodded.

“And the infection? The reason Jill’s even trying to go this far.” Claire couldn’t help but ask, even though it felt like she was betraying—something.

“I have an—acceptably viable solution.” Rebecca started, the professional in her reluctant to attribute too much credibility to a widely untested counteragent. “It’s a mutamycene necrotoxin. We will inoculate survivors as we evacuate them. After that, a few weeks of crop dusting, the Valley and we should be ready to start liquidation and resettlement.”

“This—you actually have a cure?” Claire was breathless, felt her heart rate runaway, thudding against her ribs.

“In a loose sense, yes.” Rebecca said, a little unwilling still.

“Go back to the tunnel, start getting everyone ready to evacuate, they’ll need everyone. There are still TerraSave in the Valley, they fled south so we’ll need to reach out to them too.” Claire started rattling off quickly as she stepped off towards the main building.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Moira spat as she stepped after Claire. 

“Moira, go, help Rebecca.” Claire insisted, raising a hand up as Moira approached her. Claire locked eyes with Rebecca for a moment before turning back to Moira. “I have to try and stop her. I have to try and get Jill back.”

Rebecca nodded and Claire took off, pausing only to grab her handgun off the mutilated body of Robert Jeffries.


	19. Meltdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire follows Jill down into the tunnels of the Soviet ruin and into the Umbrella bunker, imploring Jill to stop her doom driven mission to purge the Valley by way of nuclear poison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always like my clash of philosophy moments, where characters are forced into making hard decisions. We've had Claire and Jill pitted against each other more than once so far in this story, but this is the one where the tables really turn. Claire is the one who has come to save Jill, who knows the bigger picture about Becca and the necrotoxin when Jill does not.
> 
> We are very nearly done! Thank you all so much for reading this far! I will be posting the last chapter Saturday 2/27/21 in the evening (EST). I will in the notes talk about my next projects writing wise and at the end of the text I will include any and all fanart I have for this work!
> 
> "Lost It All" By Jill Andrews. I'm beginning to see this as just my "Sad Jill" theme XD Was listening to this song while writing the final scene in this chapter
> 
> "ИЗУМРУД" By Manizha. Not a particular scene I associate with this as much as I just kinda feel it for Claire's vibe. A little dire but hopeful.

_“To truly love another person  
Is to accept that the work of loving them  
Is worth the pain of losing them.”  
-Owen Sharma _

Claire stopped, feet sliding in the rubble of peeled paint and cracked ceiling tiles that littered the entrance to the main building of the abandoned silo. She hadn’t planned ahead of this point and was confronted with a steadily darkening, abandoned building. It took Claire a frantic moment to find the path of disturbed dust leading past the security desk and down the brutal and plain concrete staircase. Claire shot down it, footsteps echoing through the carcass of a building as the soles of her shoes skidded on the landing and she stopped. 

The light that had already started to dim inside she now stood facing. It looked like an abyss of black. Claire took a breath, the mist of her exhale floating for a moment in front of her and reached into her pocked.

“Please, please work.” Claire muttered, finding the keys to the truck she had originally taken to the ravine. On the chain, was a small, novelty flashlight with a little LED bulb. Claire clicked it on, and the short swath of white light cut a few yards into the dark. Claire found the train in the dust and debris again and took off. She slid over the floor; a patch of ice formed from a dripping pipe in the ceiling, and was sent her careening into the wall. The thud echoed through the empty, dark hall as Claire steadied herself. Her hands were shaking, the thin beam of the flashlight vibrating as it caught the glint of metal. Claire caught sight of a door, part ajar and sagging in its frame. A steel shimmer flashed up at Claire from the dust on the floor, the broken handle laying amongst a pile of dirt and peeled flecks of off-white paint.

Claire eased through the door and entered a much cleaner section of the basement. Her flashlight danced over a reception area and faded back into the swirling dust and dark a few yards past. From deep beyond Claire’s sight, she could see the flash of something yellow, like a warning light. Its utilitarian glow lured her down the hall, Claire checking open doors as she went, peering into abandoned offices and what looked like an ornate bedroom before she reached the flashing light’s source. 

“Bingo.” Claire muttered, a slight smile curling on her lip as she stepped into the service elevator. She scanned the button panel for a second and pressed the one labeled “Reactor”. The steel gate slid shut and the car lurched downward. The slow descent announced with a whine of cables and hum of the motor echoing through the shaft.

Claire had to suppress a surprised gasp as the elevator arrived at the reactor level. White lights glowed over a grey concrete hallway. The floor was painted a deep red, spread pools of blood slowly drying as they leaked from the executed corpses of more than a dozen lickers. Claire stepped out cautiously, boots sticking to the floor with a sickening sound as she peeled them up from the blood.

“She thinks its almost over for her, she doesn’t want them running loose.” Claire thought as she skirted the already-reeking corpse of one of the bioweapons. She made her way to the nearest door on the right of the hallway and grabbed the handle. It was solid and Claire threw her weight against it. She huffed, angrily, and raised her handgun. She paused, lowering it from the lock before thinking better.

“Look for another way before you just start shooting.” Claire muttered to herself as she wandered further down the hall, an involuntary retch as she slid in the slick pool of red. A series of windows were cut into the wall on her right and Claire stopped dead. They peered into the reactor control room; the unmistakable figure of Jill Valentine stood at the controls. Her back was turned to Claire, long coat hanging steady from her shoulders, gunshot wound already closed. The only visible sign that Lauren had shot her was a hole in the leather of her jacket and a few crimson lines of blood. Claire bashed her fist against the window, hoping they weren’t soundproof.

“We aren’t done here! Open the fucking door!” Claire shouted, a slight flutter of relief and apprehension in her chest as Jill turned to look at her. Her eyes were glowing, sweat gleamed from her brow and her skin was nearly white. The veins in Jill’s neck were a faint blue and her eyes looked bruised with massive bags under them. Her hair was wild, matted by sweat and blood likely sprayed onto her from executing her pack. She was rapidly losing her fight against the master plaga.

“Claire.” Jill rasped. It wasn’t angry, a tone of exasperation and defeat; a begrudging admiration for the tenacity of something she did not want to happen.

“Open the door and let me in! We’re stopping this now, the water is drained from the tunnels under the reactor, we’re getting out of here!” Claire’s mind was racing, words coming and going before she could speak them.

“Steam explosion was a failsafe. Radiation will still spread. It will be slow, but it will be enough. This outbreak will be contained.” Jill sighed, breath coming out in a wheeze as she turned back to the control panel. Claire banged her fist on the glass again.

“Becca’s alive!” Claire shouted and Jill visibly stiffened. She turned back to Claire; she looked so tired, like each second the plaga was eating days of her away. “She is, her and Moira drained the tunnels, she has a cure, something she called a necrotoxin. She said they can spread it over the Valley, immunize the survivors! The BSAA is coming with sand and something to seal the reactor if you can’t stop it now. Jill we can still get out of here!” Claire’s hands were pressed against the glass as Jill approached. Jill laid one hand over where Claire’s was, on the opposite pane, and sighed.

“I know what you’re doing Claire.” Jill murmured, staring at Claire’s fingers before looking her in the eye. “I have to do this. This was my mess, my command and it’s my responsibility to see it through.”

“You don’t have to, Jill please I’m telling the truth.” Tears broke from Claire’s eyes as Jill held Claire’s gaze.

“You’re desperate.” Jill countered, shaking her head. “Through the door at the end of this hall, turn right and there is a staircase. Down ten flights leads to the loading station for the bunker. There’s a rail line and a waiting engine that they used to bring heavy supply in through the mountains clandestinely. In its current configuration it will lead to the yard just near the tunnel project you were working on. Take it Claire. Survive this.” Jill went to return to her control panel as Claire slammed her fist against the glass.

“I can’t leave you!” Claire was furious and panicked, her breath threatening to break up her words as Jill paused and looked her in the eye again. “I love you.” Claire’s voice came out in a mournful croak as the words landed heavy in Jill’s ears.

“I love you too Claire.” Jill forced a pained smile that spoke nothing of joy. “But could you love a woman who wouldn’t do what needs to be done?” The momentary flicker of hope vanished from Claire’s eyes as she bashed her fist against the glass again, screaming Jill’s name as she returned to her control panel. Jill didn’t turn back, tried to tune the shouting out as she turned off the pumps that kept fresh coolant flowing through the reactor core. In an instant the temperature rose, the remaining water boiled and turned to steam, creating a void. The void and absence of any control rods in the core let the reaction rapidly rise. The build up of xenon gas burned away and the power began to surge. Jill watched the number jump from two hundred megawatts to three hundred sixty, to five hundred eighty, six hundred—seven fifty. Jill pulled the wax seal and cover off a button labeled AZ-5 and pressed it.

Claire watched in horror as the massive circular monitor in the control room began to light up yellow and green as all the control rods were pushed into the reactor. An alarm klaxon sounded in the hallway as emergency lights began to strobe. There was a shuddering throughout the whole building, pipes rattled in the walls. The graphite tips of the control rods entered the core and the reaction skyrocketed. Channels burst and the building shook with tension. Any remaining water in the reactor was vaporized, the enormous force and pressure pushed beyond the structural integrity of the core and the one-thousand-ton reactor lid became a bullet. There was a thunderous explosion as the reactor lid tore a hole upward, through the bunker and puncturing out the side of the mountain into which it was dug. Oxygen rushed in to meet super-heated reactor fuel and a wave of fire erupted from the core.

The control room wall caved inwards with the explosion, barely holding together as consoles, glass and metal were thrown into Jill, tossing her backwards savagely as Claire screamed from the other side of the glass. Claire raised her gun and emptied the magazine into the window, the glass shattering with the last two shots and Claire dove threw. She arms screamed in pain as she gained a dozen small cuts, landing on the crunch of broken glass. She ignored it and ran over to Jill. Her face was bloodied, body peppered with small pieces of glass shrapnel, but nothing was gushing blood; she was still breathing. Claire lifted Jill, slinging one arm over her shoulders. Jill groaned, head listing as she fought to stay present.

“Leave me.” Jill groaned softly, nearly inaudible as alarms screamed.

“Not gonna fucking happen.” Claire shot back as she carried them over to the door. She fumbled with the lock and then kicked it open, moving as fast as she could while supporting Jill’s weight. They got to the door and Claire shoved it open, followed Jill’s instructions and turned right. The air was hot, the temperature was rising, and it carried a foreboding, metallic scent that settled onto Claire’s tongue.

“Please, Claire, leave me. I’m already dead.” Jill rasped as they made their way down the stairs, nearly falling as they tried to move as fast as possible.

“Nope. Not how this is going down.” Claire shook her head, tightening her grip on Jill as she hauled her down to the last flight of stairs. Sweat dripped into her eyes, stinging as it dragged soot with it. Claire shook through it as they entered a short corridor. Claire paused at a locked pair of doors and leaned Jill gently against one of the walls. Jill’s head lolled but she seemed stable. Claire twisted the old lock with a grunt of effort and threw the doors open. The doors led into a large cavern, part open to the sweet and cool mountain air, a glint of white and grey peaks visible at the far end.

“We’re almost there, come on.” Claire breathed a sigh of relief as she turned back to Jill. 

“Claire, please, the plaga—” Jill trialed off, breath heavy, breaking up her words. Jill produced her handgun from inside her coat. “Leave me and let me do this, finish the job.” Jill was crying now, as Claire rushed her. Claire’s arm slammed Jill up against the wall, forcing a whimper of pain Claire instantly came to regret; but she held firm. Claire wrenched the gun from Jill’s hand and hurled it down the hallway.

“You are worth so much more than a bullet in some Umbrella hell hole.” Claire tried to keep her voice steady as she slid her arm under Jill’s again, helping her out into the cavern and towards a small freight engine. Claire helped Jill up the ladder, more carrying her now as Jill fought to keep her balance, barely holding onto enough strength to stay upright. They entered the cab and Claire approached the controls, first laying Jill down on a row of seats bolted into the wall, likely for the loading crew. Claire pulled off her jacked, balled it up and set it under Jill’s head before turning her focus to the controls.

“Serious fucking de ja vu.” Claire shook her head as she started the diesel generators. The train hummed to life, engines warming up as power began to spool, ready to move the electric motors. The engines warmed and Claire set the vehicle in motion. The cab lurched and light spilled in through the windows as Claire looked back behind them. Black smoke rose from the mountain, an eerie column of blue light marked the site of the open reactor, radiation ionizing the molecules in the air. Jill groaned, struggling to prop herself up, barely catching a look out the window. The air filled with a loud hum as a dark grey aircraft flew out of the smokey whisp of cloud cover. It flew low, rear gate open and as it passed high above the burning stack of wrecked reactor core, it dumped several large bundles straight into the fire. Even from her limited angle, Jill couldn’t miss the distinctive insignia on its rudder. 

“That’s a BSAA cargo plane.” Jill said, more of a thought out loud, the statement of fact obvious. Claire turned back to Jill and walked over. Claire knelt as Jill’s eyes seemed to bore through the steel wall of the train cab. They were wide and seemed to be darting, like Jill was reading something quickly in front of her. Jill’s mind was in truth racing as the single item of the plane completely changed how she saw her situation.

“You were telling the truth.” Jill muttered. “I—I thought you were saying whatever you had to, to try and stop me.” Jill stammered, looking up at Claire as she put it together. “Becca’s alive?” 

Claire nodded in response, a smile growing over her face. She reached out and brushed a loose strand of Jill’s hair aside as they held each other’s gaze.

“She is. Everything I said was true Jill.” Claire affirmed as Jill let out a thrilled little laugh, covering her mouth as the relief of Rebecca’s survival washed over her. It was the first drop of a torrent. Jill realized that with that truth came the remedy that Rebecca had to stop the outbreak of E-type mutamycene, how Jill’s reactor detonation would be stopped and was ultimately pointless and had risked her and Claire’s lives. Jill’s mind began to race; all the preparation for this action was pointless, all the death, the suffering, the amount of times she had put Claire at risk. All this time Becca had been left out with no support and she had clearly not given up the possibility of saving the Valley. Jill had. What had she let this crisis turn her into? What fears had she given into so deeply, and why, after all she had done, was Claire so desperate to save her. 

This all flew through Jill’s mind in a second and it crushed her. Before she could even speak, she cracked, bursting into tears, sobs tearing through anything she had wanted to say. It burned in her chest, the weight of facing the crisis alone and doomed to die gave her enough breath to see what had happened and the very trauma of it all settled neatly into the branded terrors in her memory; things set deep from her years missing and tortured. 

Claire scooped Jill up in her arms in an instant, holding her tight as she began to shake violently. Jill clung to Claire, desperately clawing at Claire, like she couldn’t draw close enough. It was startling to Claire, more so that Jill felt— _frail,_ the plaga was tearing her up and so much of her strength had been used on this last ditch effort to stop an infection she no longer was facing alone. One that she had never needed to face alone, that fact she had only just learned. Jill was spent and in the terror of what was and what lay unknown, she clung to Claire, the only thing that felt remotely stable.

Claire didn’t say a word, held onto Jill firmly and let her cry. She would sort this through, Jill would not bear the blame for the evils of Martin Cromwell’s crime or the chaos that ensued. She had tried to do what she thought was the heavy, dark price of containment. She had lost everyone, had no allies and couldn’t tell who to even trust. Jill of all people knew betrayal, loneliness and the fear of facing insurmountable hardship alone.

Claire resolved that Jill would not be subject to the judgement of anyone else. Moira would go along with her. Claire would hold Jill accountable for what she did do and forgive her what wasn’t her fault. Only she knew what had really happened here, she had heard her brother talk about moments like this.

“What’s right isn’t always what the rule book says. You know when you follow your gut, stick to your principles, and protect the people you love.” He had told her after he had returned from Kijuju, bearing the bitter-sweet news of Jill’s recovery.

“You will be accountable to me, and only me. I will not let anyone else touch you.” Claire murmured, not knowing if Jill even heard as she cried into Claire’s shoulder.


	20. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill is quickly evacuated from the Valley and taken into Rebecca's care. After hours of surgery, Jill is recovering, anxious to hear how the BSAA is recording the events of the last couple months. A much anticipated visitor answers that question for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here! It's finished! Jill has a long way to go both physically and mentally but Claire has med things clear; she will support and protect Jill, and keep her on a path away from the darkness in her past.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read this far! To everyone who has commented and left kudos, it's what has kept me moving right along! As I said before, all fanart, current and potential future, will be added to the text at the end of this chapter.
> 
> As for future projects. I'm going to be taking about a month's hiatus. My first goal is to finish Antidote and wrap up the Bleeding Hearts trilogy. I will start posting that no later than the first of April. Following the completion of Antidote, I will begin work on my next project, "Fossil Water". 
> 
> Fossil Water is a crossover fic that will be a one off, novel length work featuring Tomb Raider (Survivor Timeline) and Resident Evil, post RE6. Lara Croft has been following a thread in the Fijian myth saying the Pacific Island civilization originated from lake Tanganyika in southern Africa. The myth is regarded often as hoax and popular falsehood, but Lara suspects there is some truth, a missing link civilization between the ancient African's and Fijian exodus. Lara finds proof, a civilization said to have been powered by a fountain of youth and world serpent guardian. A pharmaceutical company based in Dubai reaches out to Lara, offering to fund an expedition, believing her theory that a lost enclave in the mountains surrounding lake Tanganyika exists; and likely holds several novel plants and organisms. What Lara doesn't know is that the company also believes one such novel organism is of the potential potency of the Progenitor Virus or fossilized Las Plagas specimenes. Lara leaves with her expedition team and gleaming new supply caravan, unknowing the true purpose of her mission. Learning of this expedition, and how it is funded, the BSAA sends out an elite scout and investigatory team to confirm the mission's true purpose as well seize or destroy any biological weapons material. The two picked for the job; Doctor Rebecca Chambers and the recently reinstated Agent Jill Valentine.
> 
> For updates on upcoming stories follow me!
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> Twitter @fitzeroy  
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_“There are certain kinds of deaths  
That one should not be expected to re-live,  
Certain kinds of connections that are so deep  
That when broken  
You feel the snap of the link inside you.”  
-Jeff VanderMeer _

Jill stirred awake, an immediate cramp in her gut pushing a groan past her lips. She shut her eyes harder, rolling onto her side. The thin sheet pulled over her slid with a shifting, nylon sound of clean linen on linen. Jill inhaled deeply, taking in a soft aroma of mild detergent with a slight hint of lavender and olive blossom. She exhaled, slowly, letting the muscles in her back release, her body always tensed up upon waking. She gave herself a moment then stood; the heart rate monitor clipped to her finger clicking softly against the wheeled rack that had held her IV.

Jill was grateful for the room, more hospice care than hospital room. It kept the itching terror that Jill always associated with sterile smells, clean, white and metal surfaces, at bay. The years being Tricell’s test subject left that mark and Jill was certain it would never fully leave. She walked over to the window, a small plush bench faced it and she sat. Her muscles whined as she tried to relax, shaking a shiver out of shoulders. Jill smoothed the tops of her sweatpants, straitened her back until she felt a soft and satisfying crunch. The window didn’t give much of a view, but that wasn’t a big deal.

The BSAA had essentially bought out several hotels in nearby countries to use as isolation and inpatient care centers for the deluge of refugees with exposure to bioweapons. TerraSave was helping man them and Jill had been quietly given a room in an extended stay hotel in Budapest. She was still recovering; it was going to take time.

Back in the Valley, Claire had carried Jill out of the train when it reached the nearest section of track to the tunnel, screaming for help the second she saw the teams of BSAA soldiers. They had come through as soon as the drills met in the tunnel, damaging each other beyond use but that wasn’t a concern on anyone’s mind. Rebecca had come running as soon as she heard Claire’s voice. She had injected something she had prepared into Jill’s neck and ordered Claire to take her through the tunnel.

They had practically run through the rough opening, past BSAA soldiers looking confused and concerned. Claire didn’t slow, even when she felt her body was going to give out. They were fortunately stopped by an approaching Humvee, carefully making its way through the fresh cut tunnel. They had driven the rest of the way, passing lines of BSAA trucks, laden with troops and equipment to aid the evacuation. Claire felt a twinge of guilt then, that she had completely left the task of evacuating the people of the Valley. A glance at the dozens of BSAA vehicles preparing to do just that, and then down at Jill’s pale skin and sweating brow, made her certain she had made the right choice. 

In a few minutes they had reached the other side, a clear staging area set up with BSSA, TerraSave and the UN Refugee agency waiting. They got out and a BSAA medical team ran up to Rebecca, who focused them on Jill. She was loaded into a BSAA helicopter and Rebecca pulled Claire aside.

“I don’t know what happened here, not fully, but I know Jill. I’ll take care of her. It’s close but she’ll be ok. I need you to get to TerraSave now, answer the questions they have, let me worry about Jill.” Rebecca had insisted. Claire knew she was right, yet still felt like something was being ripped from her as she watched the helicopter lift off. 

Jill didn’t remember much after that. She barely had memory of things before the helicopter lifted off. Her body’s fight against the plaga kicked into a final offensive and she had spiked a dangerous fever. She remembers a flash of Rebecca’s face giving a nervous smile and then she had woken up in this room for the first time. That was yesterday.

Rebecca had explained the surgery they had done, that the damage done was extensive but not fatal. Jill would live, after weeks of recovery. Something Jill was used to but dreaded all the same. The first question Jill had asked was about Claire. Rebecca knew it was coming too.

Rebecca said that Jill had been under the knife for eighteen hours, and that Claire was with Moira, debriefing TerraSave and the BSAA since they were the only witnesses in official capacity. She informed Jill that the Valley was in ruin but pockets in isolated communities had been found with survivors. No one from either the government or separatist authorities had answered any communications, and no one had been found.

Jill had shuddered at this, knowing that her fate had yet to be decided and that it rested entirely with Claire and Moira. Two people who knew the full extent of everything she had done. Rebecca had added that she was going to take on Jill’s personal care, in addition to some other responsibilities, overseeing the production of E-type Necrotoxin for use in the Valley. Jill had accepted this with a nod, smile and squeeze of Rebecca’s hand before she ordered Jill to rest. Jill had laid back and fallen asleep until this moment, the next day.

“Hey.” Rebecca’s voice came in, a nervous greeting that was more an announcement of her presence then trying to get Jill’s attention. Jill turned to see her walking through Jill’s room door with a small paper bag in hand. “Found a little place that does these perfect palacsintas and figured you could use something beyond the standard fair.” 

“Aren’t you the one supposed to be telling me to eat nothing but kale and plain toast for the next four months?” Jill smirked as Rebecca shrugged.

“A little treat is good for the beleaguered mind.” Rebecca smiled, handing Jill the bag. She thanked her, the words barely breaking from her mouth. There was a pause and Jill looked up at Rebecca.

“So, what’s the word on things?” Jill asked nervously, not knowing if she even wanted the answer.

“Well.” Rebecca started, sitting down next to Jill. “The BSAA and TerraSave have made their official announcement after they released the news of reestablishing contact with the Valley.” Rebecca took a deep breath and offered a faint smile to Jill. “They are basing it off the briefing given to them by Claire Redfield, acting director of the TerraSave mission in Iarna Valea, and her second in command, Moira Burton. They explained that a weapons smuggler had orchestrated a takeover of the TerraSave mission after the director was assassinated in the same way they tried to kill me. The BSAA says it can’t confirm the link but suspects it. That and information from DSO intelligence seems to support that claim. Both parties to the conflict became infected with the bioweapons they had bought to use on each other, and it is believed the smuggler did this to prove the efficacy of there new merchandise to potential clients. The BSAA has chosen not to reveal the existence of the E-type weapons to the public, they are referring to it as an updated version of the C-virus.”

Jill furrowed her brow at that mention as Rebecca continued.

“They said that both armies, now under the control of bioterrorists, were turned on the BSAA and overwhelmed them. They said the commander fought until the last, holding the line until the information about the smuggler came through from DSO. The official report says that Agent Burton sacrificed himself in a Gehenna measure which took out most of the infected left. DSO destroyed the E-type weapon, cutting off command and you were sent to take down the smuggler. At this point—” Rebecca paused, looking at Jill for a long moment. “The report states you were targeted by this group and infected with a master plaga. They attempted and failed at multiple stages to control you, and you tried to enact a massive Gehenna measure which would keep the infection from reaching Europe. You were cut off and infected by a hostile bioweapon and you hung on, survived and kept the entire population of the Valley from being infected.” Rebecca finished as Jill scoffed.

“It happened nothing like that.” She groused in a low tone that sounded almost gravely in her dry throat.

“I know.” Rebecca returned as Jill glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you know?”

“Claire sat me down and told me how everything went down. About Bergatrollet, about the Jeffries, about the plaga, about how her own people betrayed and murdered their own.” Rebecca’s voice shook a little as she spoke, tears forming in her eyes.

“You were doing the only thing you thought you could. All you fears came true and you were alone. How could I blame you, even if I wouldn’t have done it myself?” Rebecca insisted, a single streak breaking from her eye. Jill shook her head.

“I was lost in fear and anger, I should have died back there, it would have been just.” Jill’s expression soured. “Claire pleaded with me the whole time, never gave up on me for a second. I repaid her with repeated callous acts. I left her every time, she was as alone as me and she never gave into the fear I did. She’s the reason anyone survived that hell.” 

“She wants to see you, by the way. I didn’t know if you’d be ready yet so she’s waiting.” Rebecca asked cautiously as Jill’s cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, I’d like to see her.” Jill murmured, looking away as Rebecca stood. She placed a hand on Jill’s shoulder, squeezed slightly, and walked off.

“Thank you.” Jill called after her, Rebecca smiling back as she held the door open.

“You’re welcome Jill.” Rebecca returned, then said something inaudible as she stepped into the hall. The door didn’t close as Claire stepped inside. She had a plastic shopping bag hanging from one arm and was clutching a small bouquet of multicolored flowers. Claire slowly approached, Jill breaking into a broad grin.

“You doing ok?” Claire offered, disappointed by her choice of words. Jill’s smile grew, shaking her head in a playful way.

“About as well as I can, I guess.” Jill shrugged as Claire walked across the room to the small kitchenette. She searched for something to put the flowers in, gave up in about forty-five seconds, and set them, stem down, in the sink. She turned back to Jill and shrugged.

“I’m sure we can find a vase in a minute.” Claire dismissed.

“I’m sure we can, what’s in the bag?” Jill asked, cocking her head to the side as Claire smiled.

“Hair dye.” She returned, pulling a small box with a shimmering label and model with ridiculously long, flowing dark hair. “I figured you’d want to go back to your old color, kinda like, getting back to yourself, y’know?” Claire stumbled a bit through her words.

“Yeah, thank you Claire. I don’t think you realize how much that means.” Jill’s words were nearly a whisper as she felt her chest well up and her heart rate tick higher. 

“We’ll do it whenever you’re ready.” Claire answered as she sat next to Jill and set the box down. There was a long silence, Jill running through dozens of things she wanted to say, thinking about how to start, what to ask, what order she needed to keep them in.

“I can’t even begin to say how grateful I am.” Jill started; voice shaky. “or how sorry I am.” Her voice broke a little on the last few words. She inhaled deeply, recovering with a steady exhale. “What exactly did you wind up telling them?”

“Oh, I lied my ass off.” Claire laughed dryly. “I don’t think anyone would really understand what you went through. I stand by what I did, I think I was able to keep you just from the brink. You aren’t evil Jill. You were just hurt and alone and afraid. You were wrong, but it wasn’t your fault.” And at those words Jill broke down, bowing her head and squeezing her eyes shut as a hard sob broke from the back of her throat. Claire wrapped an arm around Jill and took her hand. Jill gripped her hard as she let a tide of grief pass through her, flowing over the wall she maintained to keep it all in, the years of it now. Claire let Jill cry until it faded to soft whimpers and the occasional sniffle.

“I don’t know what I could ever do to deserve what you have given to me.” Jill coughed after a moment, still gripping Claire’s hand. 

“Do what I asked of you. Stop defining yourself by what you fight against. I want to see you live by the things you want to protect, not by the evil you want to destroy. I won’t let anyone judge you because I don’t think anyone can; but you will be accountable to me Jill.” Claire affirmed, her fingers sliding along the edge of Jill’s jaw as she brought Jill to face her. Their eyes met for a second and Claire gently kissed Jill, lingering for a moment. She pulled back as Jill held her gaze; a knowing look that told Claire she was more than willing to submit to those terms.

“And you are never allowed to break up with me or I’ll tell.” Claire added, raising a finger and flashing an impish grin that made Jill laugh, shaking her head.

“I don’t think that will be a problem. Is there anything else?” Jill asked as her laughter trailed off.

“Mhm.” Claire hummed as she stood. She held onto Jill’s hands as she stepped in front of her. Claire straddled Jill’s lap and slowly sat down, bringing Jill’s hands to rest on her waist. Claire draped her arms around Jill’s shoulders, scooted forward, bringing herself as close as she could to Jill. 

“I just want you to hold me like you did in the ravine.” Claire whispered as a strand of her loose hair tickled Jill’s cheek. She leaned down and kissed her, Jill’s hands sliding up her back.

“I can do that.” Jill wanted, pausing for a breath before kissing Claire again.

“I can do that.”

Jill appearing to Claire in the burning chaos of Atriebiba Gorod. Art by @miss__debbi on Instagram

Jill Valentine as the fallen hero. Art by @Sisslethecat on Twitter

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all who are jumping on with this work and a special thanks to any of you who have read Bleeding Hearts! This work is my first new AU in nearly a year and I'm hoping to post a new chapter once a week until completion. I've always been enthralled with villains and fallen heroes and wondered what would happen with Jill if she came back into the fold to find herself utterly alone? I'm also going to be exploring a little politics of sectarian conflict, paganism vs Christianity and redemption. Check my tags for trigger warnings and I want to say I do follow the Sapphic Golden Rule. I'll post my little playlist widget at the start of each chapter, I encourage you to listen as I am playing it every time I write! I also associate certain songs with specific characters, chapters and events so I will mention that in the notes as well. Thank you again for everyone reading and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> "Devil Devil" By MILCK. This rules as the overall theme for this work .


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